


The Shadows of Our Minds

by mitchmatch24



Series: Mind. Body. Soul. [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Abuse, Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, BAU-Freeform, Blood, Blood Play, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Dark, Declarations Of Love, Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominate Aaron Hotchner, Eating Disorder ?, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flashbacks, Freeform, Homicidal Fantasies, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kidnapping, Knife Play, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Aaron Hotchner, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scars, Self-Harm, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tags May Change, The BAU Team - Freeform, Torture, Violence, Whump, music references, team as a family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 93,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27939277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchmatch24/pseuds/mitchmatch24
Summary: Reese Benson is a man who has had a rough life. After a fallout with someone he loved, he is quickly kidnapped by a sadistic stalker from a past case. Will he be able to make it through the hell in front of him? Will he recover if he makes it through?
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Original Male Character(s), past Reese Benson/Jeremy Daniels
Series: Mind. Body. Soul. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045074
Comments: 93
Kudos: 58





	1. Never Ending Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> *partially inspired by user TobiasHankel's fic "Will It Ever Be Okay?" Go give it a read!*
> 
> This is going to be a dark one, folks. Strap in. It is not going to be pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Graphic depictions of rape, drugging, kidnapping, etc. Please use discretion
> 
> Welcome back, people. We are diving straight in. FAIR WARNING: this fic will be dark. Please be cautious and read the tags before continuing any further. 
> 
> Happy reading, kind stranger :)

“There is no such thing as paranoia. Your worst fears can come true at any moment.”  
-Hunter S. Thompson

* * *

“Hello, little one. Were you a good boy for me while I was away?”

I froze in place, my eyes landing on the man sitting on my couch a mere 10 feet away from me. My mouth dropped open, my eyes going wide out of shock and horror. I blinked a few times, trying to see if my mind was playing tricks on me or if the man was real. I knew who he was; how could I ever fucking forget? He was the man that raped and abused me after kidnapping me in Texas 3 months ago. His name was Walter Webb. He stood at 6’2. He was broad and muscular, although he was more on the toned side. He wasn’t bulky. He had jet black hair and hazel eyes and a wicked smile directed directly at me.

I didn’t pay any attention to the man standing a few feet behind him. I was too shocked to care. I started shaking, my body and mind paralyzed. Webb took a step towards me and on instinct I stepped back, fear tightening my chest and I started panicking. Webb stopped, a flash of anger crossing his facial features. I closed my mouth, swallowing even though my mouth was dry. He slowly pushed his hand in his pocket, pulling it back out with a switch blade in his hand. The knife sprung free with a _snap!_ I took another step back, my body moving out of fear. Paralyzing, gut-wrenching fear. My mind was screaming at me to reach for my gun. To pull and shoot. But I couldn’t. I was frozen, too scared to think clearly; my judgement cloudy and confused and terrified.

“Don’t run from your master, little one. Don’t scream. Don’t run. Don’t fight. Be a good boy and kneel for your master, little one. Now,” he ordered, his voice icy and firm. Never wavering. I sunk to my knees, bowing my head in instant submission as fear coiled tighter around me, threatening to suffocate me. Webb let out a satisfied exhalation, approaching me slowly. Emphatically. He wasn’t being slow out of caution; he was being slow in order to build my fear and anticipation and panic. My mind screamed at me to draw and fire my weapon, but my body wouldn’t move, too shocked by the depth of my panic.

His hand was in my hair, stroking the strands softly. Webb was practically humming with delight. He squatted down, his hand snaking to my side as he disarmed me, taking my gun and tossing it to the side carelessly. He was lucky it didn’t discharge. He brought his fingers to my chin, gripping it lightly and tilting my head so my gray eyes met his gaze. He was smiling in arrogant satisfaction. That dark _thing_ within me wanted to snap his neck in half but the rest of me wouldn’t move. _Couldn’t_ move. His thumb stroked my cheek, his head cocking to the side as he looked at me. “Still so good for me. You never forgot, did you? You never forgot who your master was, did you, little one? Answer me,” he commanded calmly, his eyes searching my own.

“No sir,” I squeaked, my eyes never breaking from his. His smile got wider as he rose to his feet, his fingers gliding up the side of my faze to my hair, resuming his petting of the chocolate strands. I kept my eyes on his, waiting for him to do something else. Waiting for another command. For a split second I was grateful I wasn’t wearing the collar I normally did but that quickly stung with emotional pain. I trembled as I tried to hold myself together.

Webb tilted his head to the other side as though he was curious. As a profiler I knew that he was going to manipulate sincerity into tricking me into trusting him, but as a victim it was different. It’s like those dots didn’t connect. It was so much rawer when experienced firsthand. It was more painful yet more fulfilling. “Reach into your pocket and hand me your phone, little one,” he commanded, his voice still calm and firm. I shifted my hips slightly, pulling my phone out of my pocket and handing it to him. The second he took it I went back to my normal position, my hands resuming their place on my thighs. He glanced back to the other man before looking at my phone. “Password?” he asked expectantly.

“1-0-2-1-1-7, sir,” I responded almost instantly. _FUCK! Why did you do that? What are you doing? Move, damn it! Stop letting this man control you. Stop submitting. You should die before you betray yourself. Fucking move, dumbass._ I stayed still, my eyes still on his. There was the sound of my phone’s imitation camera shudder and a sudden flash of light. He had taken a picture of me. I blinked but didn’t look away. I was too scared of what he would do to me if I looked away. He typed something out it seemed before turning it back off, dropping it to the ground haphazardly. Then he moved his leg suddenly, his foot coming down on it and crushing the screen’s glass. He ground his heel, treating it as though it was a cigarette.

The other man came forward, stepping into the light closer to where Webb and I were. I could make out more of his features now. I didn’t let my eyes leave Webb’s but was pleased when the other man came to stand next to Webb. I could use peripheral vision to make him out. He was 6’1, slimmer, well defined, light brown hair and cobalt blue eyes. His face was impassive, not giving anything away. At least I didn’t think he was. I was too focused on Webb to really care. Webb turned his head towards the man and nodded. The man stepped around me so he was behind me. My eyes stayed glued to Webb.

Webb looked back down at me, a wicked smile on his face. “Let’s go home, little one.” Then there was a needle in my neck, sudden pressure taking me by surprise. I hissed in pain, my eyelids instantly growing heavy. I swayed, blinking out of disbelief. Before I could really even think further, I was falling forward, collapsing into darkness.

* * *

My eyelids felt heavy when I tried to open them, the room around me unfamiliar. It took me a few moments to remember what had happened. Once I remembered it hit me like a ton of bricks. I shot up, looking around me. I had been laying on the floor, the room made of similar concrete like in Texas. The room had small windows near the top of the room, telling me we weren’t in Texas. More than likely we were still in Virginia. The room was smaller than it was in Texas, but still similar. There was a small cot in the back corner and place for me to piss. The bigger difference was the points affixed to the wall, ceiling, and floor for chains or ropes. There were shelves with different items lining them, although I was too dazed to make out what they were.

I tried pushing up onto my hands but failed miserably. I let out a labored breath, a pain in my neck becoming more and more apparent from where I had been jabbed with what I could only assume was a needle. My hand came to my temple, massaging it gently as I tried to get my bearings. Light was streaming into the small room, hitting me in the eyes. At least I knew it was daytime. Daytime during which day was the bigger question.

A door in front of me opened, Webb and the other man stepping inside. “Hello, little one. I hope you slept well during our little journey home,” Webb said, a twinge of sincerity in his voice. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to believe in his sincerity. I wanted it to be real.

I forced a small smile, looking at Webb with innocent, pleading eyes. “Good morning, sir. At least I think it’s morning, sir,” I said with my forced smile.

Webb stepped towards me, kneeling in front of where I was laying and running a hand through my hair. He smiled, the smile one of sadistic lust and what looked like intense admiration. He ran his fingers down to the column of my throat, pressing in gently where he used to have a collar. I noticed that the collar wasn’t there. Maybe he didn’t plan on giving me a collar. I doubted that. He was intensely focused on me, meaning he would want to show his possessiveness off. He had stalked me. Found my address and kidnapped me. Yet apart of me found it relieving… like now that he had me, some of the fear slipped away. “I missed you, little one. Those stupid friends of yours seemed to think I wouldn’t come back to find you. Now I have you again and I’m not going to let you go. You’re mine, little one. You’ll only serve me. I just have to get your collar,” he said, more so talking to himself than me.

“Thank you, sir,” I murmured softly, trying to win myself some points. I would mess up at some point. He would get upset at me eventually. Maybe then he would go easier if I pleased him more to begin with. A part of me felt a twinge of guilt, the thought of betraying Aaron coming to the forefront of my mind. But then I thought about the fight we had. He had called me weak and pathetic. And I had left. I had fucked myself over. This time there would be no rescue. There wouldn’t be hopeful thoughts of my team saving me. They weren’t my team anymore, were they? If Aaron was that tired of me, the rest of them must be too. I didn’t blame them. It still hurt, though.

I closed my eyes when Webb cupped the side of my face, prompting me to exhale as I accepted the inevitable road that lie ahead of me. The last time I was taken I had been repeatedly raped and violated. It had nearly broken me. How couldn’t it? A part of me wanted to fight as I did last time. Fight my own thoughts and try not to break down my self-will. “I want you to meet someone, little one. And I want you to thank him for helping me get you here,” Webb said, shuffling out of my field of view so I could see the other man in the room.

I pushed up, shakily getting to my knees to kneel before them both. I looked at the man, waiting for one of them to explain. When the man didn’t speak, I turned to Webb, waiting patiently. _Obediently._ Webb stood, stepping back to stand next to the man. He put his hand on his shoulder. “This is a good friend of mine, little one. He was very kind as to help me find you and then come get you. You are to respect him like you respect me, understand, little one?” Webb asked, already knowing the answer. Normally I would argue that I didn’t respect him, but I was not in the place to do so right now.

I nodded. “Yes sir, I understand,” I said in that submissive tone I only used like this. When I was in situations like this.

Webb nodded, accepting my understanding. And then there was the jingling of a belt buckle. Not Webb’s. The other mans. My heart rate went up, my muscles tensing in realization. I was about to be used. Used as a way of thanks. I swallowed, fear sparking in my eyes as I tried my best to mentally prepare myself to dissociate.

**_No point in dissociating. This is what you’re good for. Pathetic fucking bitch. You should be grateful someone even wants to use you. Aaron was right, you know? You really are fucking pathetic. Weak. Always have been. Now you are accepting the fact that you are about to be violated or raped. Whore._ **

_What else am I supposed to do? Fight them both and possibly fucking die? And you think I don’t know Aaron was right? Of course, I know! Just fuck off._

The man stepped forward, walking until I was just barely in his reach. He ran his fingers over my cheek before pulling back and smacking across the face. My head snapped back, keeping my eyes in front of me. The man smiled. A cold, dark, sadistically pleased smile.

“Don’t smack him around too much, Leon. He’s still mine. I don’t like when anyone else but me marks up my property. Hurry up and get on with the payment we discussed,” Webb hissed.

The man named Leon waved him off. “I’m not going to mark your property, Webb. I just want to shake him up a bit. His eyes look so pretty when he’s scared,” Leon retorted. That was the first time I had heard him speak. He was British which took me by slight surprise.

Webb smirked at that. “I know. Why do you think I wanted him specifically? You should hear him scream,” Webb said in a dark purr.

Leon’s fingers tangled in my hair, tugging lightly so my head would move the way he wanted. “Undo my pants and get to work, bitch,” he spat. Shaky fingers went up to the button of his jeans, my hands trembling as I unbuttoned them and unzipped them. I hesitated, a slice of my mind still fighting, trying to urge me to fight to get free.

_Smack._

“Stop slapping him around,” Webb ordered coldly, walking the few feet to me. He pushed Leon’s hands away, his own fingers playing with my hair. “I need you to do what Leon says, little one. Show him how thankful you are to him for getting you back to me. Be good for your master,” he said gently, almost sweetly. As though I wanted what he wanted. As though I wanted to be psychologically abused and tortured and raped for days… weeks… maybe even months on end. Then he added on something else. “If you don’t, you’ll be punished severely.”

I didn’t want to find out what that entailed. I didn’t want to let this man and his friends use me as though I was nothing more than a sex toy. I wanted to be home. Away. Away from all of this. “Y-yes sir,” I whispered, taking in a deep breath for the sake of strength, trying to find the will to push past everything my mind was screaming at me.

**_That’s how easy it is to break you? Fucking weakling._ **

_What do you suggest I do, hm? Beg? Plead? It’s not going to get us anywhere. Shut up and fuck off._

**_You should let him kill you. At least then you die with honor. You didn’t bow down to this man’s every whim simply to live. But it doesn’t matter, does it. You’re just a fucking whore. A pathetic little faggot made to be raped and abused. You’re disgusting._ **

I pulled down the man’s jeans, pushing down the bile in my throat and the feelings of unease and fear. It was easier to submit. Easier to simply dissociate and take the abuse I was given. “Go on then, bitch. You heard your master. Get to fucking work or do I need to slap you again?” Leon sneered, raising his hand as a threat.

I shook my head frantically. “No sir. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir,” I blurted out in an anxious rush. I moved then, pulling down his briefs and taking his half-hard cock in my hand. I felt sick. I then took him in my mouth, resisting the urge to bite down on him and make him scream in pain.

Leon smirked down at me with cold, hate-filled eyes. “About fucking time, faggot. Hope you can take cock well because I’m going to make you fucking gag on it,” he snickered, gripping my hair tightly and suddenly thrusting forward. I choked, not ready for the sudden intrusion as his cock hit the back of my throat. I swallowed around him involuntarily. “That’s it, bitch. Swallow my dick like the stupid, pathetic little faggot you are. I bet you like it. Filthy little cock sucker,” he moaned, pushing in impossibly further.

Tears stung my eyes as my lungs burned for air. He pulled out a few inches, not giving me any mercy as he pushed back in, rough and sloppy. A strangled, garbled cry left my chest. I couldn’t breathe. He held me on the base of his cock for a few more seconds, holding my nose to his pubic hair. I was pulled off his dick with a pop, coughing as I did. I tried pulling away, my body on fire and fighting nausea.

_Smack._

I was sent backwards, a pained look and pleading eyes meeting Leon’s. He gave me a sinister smile, stepping forward and yanking me back to my knees by my hair. I let out a pained cry, my hands finding his thighs as I tried to push back. Leon delivered another sharp smack but didn’t let me go. “Please stop! Please! I don’t want to do this! Please just let me go! Please!” I begged; my vision blurred by tears.

Both Webb and Leon laughed, the sounds mixing together rough and sly. I opened my mouth to say something again, but I was pulled forward, Leon’s dick sliding back down my throat. “You don’t get to choose what happens to you, bitch. You’re here to be a slave. A hole for your master to use. To whore out. And after all the work I put into finding you and catching you, there is no way either one of us would let you go.” I choked again, bile churning in my stomach as I fought the urge to vomit. I felt precum drip down my throat as Leon mercilessly fucked my face, making me choke and gag and swallow around him.

“I’m going to cum down your throat, bitch, and you better fucking swallow it all,” Leon growled, thrusting back into my mouth. He came with a groan. I swallowed, less because I wanted to and more because I physically couldn’t stop myself. The tip of his cock was pressed against the back of my throat. He pulled out with a sigh, pushing me back onto my back with a disgusted look on his face. I was coughing and retching, trying to take in air with pure desperation. I swallowed the acidic vomit in my mouth, still heaving for breath.

Leon stepped back, pulling his jeans back up and looking at Webb, telling him I was his again. Webb stepped forward, stopping in front of me as I looked up at him. I was terrified and it showed. His lips curled up just barely, taking pleasure in my pain and fear. “You were very disobedient, little one. I told you not to struggle or fight and to do as Leon told you,” Webb began softly, squatting down to pet my hair, “that means you deserve punishment, little one.”

I shook my head no, my mind stuck in immense disbelief as to what was happening. “No… please,” I whispered, trying to back away.

Webb nodded, his lips curling up more in pleasure. I could see the lust in his eyes, spurred on by my fear. “Yes, you do, little one. You need to learn the consequences of disobeying master’s orders. I’ll go easier this first time as you’ve been away from me for so long… but don’t expect food for the next week. You didn’t earn it,” Webb said, deliberately patronizing.

Leon stepped back into my line of sight, a syringe in his hand. A god damn _syringe._ That got my attention more. I backed up further, backing up until my back was pressed into the cold concrete wall. Webb grabbed me, holding me still against the wall as I thrashed. “NO. PLEASE NO. I’M SORRY. I’LL DO BETTER. PLEASE NO. SIR, PLEASE. I’M SORRY,” I pleaded in terror, trying to pull my arm out of his grip. Leon stuck the needle in my arm, paying no attention to me or my frantic movements.

I felt the drugs course through my veins. My head lolled back against the wall, my eyes becoming unfocused as I tried to fight the oncoming high. “Just give in, little one. This is to help you sleep,” Webb explained calmly, letting go of me temporarily and then hauling me up with ease after he got to his feet. He practically dragged me to the bed, laying me on it almost carefully. “Go to sleep, little one. I’ll come check on you when you wake up.”

And with those final words, I succumbed to the blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think :)


	2. Loyalties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I knew that eventually my brain would give into the abuse and the violence and the rape… but it wouldn’t get over how painful it was to lose people you thought loved you. It wouldn’t let that go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: drugging, starvation, torture, graphic depictions of oral rape, mentions of physical abuse, etc... PLEASE USE DISCRETION!!
> 
> Just saying, the next few chapters are going to be like this.. like graphic and somewhat horrific. They need to be written to set the stage for what's to come... but Reese will get revenge in the end... I made sure this would have a satisfying outcome. So look forward to that. 
> 
> Happy reading (even though this chapter is dark)!

“You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today.”  
-Abraham Lincoln

* * *

My eyes slowly blinked open, my mind still hazy from whatever I had been drugged with. My limbs felt heavy. Everything felt heavy. My mouth was dry, and my throat was sore. I flipped over, facing the wall and curling into a tight ball. The biggest thing that stuck out was that it was cold. Very cold. I was only in my boxers. I knew that would probably change as Webb’s patience and self-restraint slipped away as it had in the bunker. He would just take them off for good, leaving me completely nude and helpless. I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering on top of the cot. I could feel my hairs standing on end from how cold it was. I let out a whimper, shutting my eyes and trying to force myself back to sleep.

I already felt hungry. Hunger was one of the worst problems people have ever been forced to deal with. I twitched, my mind latching onto that feeling and never leaving. I had dealt with hunger before. But not for days and days on end. As a teenager I had been starved… but only for two meals at a time. I could always eat at school. I still had access to food. But not here. Not now. And if the brutal rape was going to start again… I didn’t know if I could last as long as I had the last time. Last time I had broken down hard and I had all the essentials to live.

But there was no escaping this. There wouldn’t be a rescue. My team would think I had simply left, and they would move on. Not even my team. Hotch’s team wouldn’t think twice about me. And that stung. That hurt worse than anything else imaginable. I knew that eventually my brain would give into the abuse and the violence and the rape… but it wouldn’t get over how painful it was to lose people you thought loved you. It wouldn’t let that go.

_Hotch himself called me weak. He called me pathetic. I know I wasn’t exactly put together, but I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I was trying to be strong. I was trying._

**_What did I tell you? This happened after Daniel died. This happens EVERY time. No one loves you. No one ever cares about you. No one. They care about using you. Don’t be surprised Hotch called you weak. He was simply letting his true opinion about you show. It’s the truth._ **

A tear ran down my cheek, emotional pain surging to the surface, trying to escape me while it had the chance. While my guard was still down. While I was still forced into vulnerability. I did my best to not make any noise, a few whimpers and small cries escaping my lungs but nothing more. I didn’t know if they were watching me and if they would be upset if I made noise. I didn’t want to find out if any of this could possibly get worse. I didn’t want to know.

In Texas I had managed to make it through because of the thoughts of the people I loved. Aaron. Mostly Aaron. Now I didn’t even want to call him his first name. I didn’t even want to use Hotch. That seemed too close now. And hated that this got to me in such a way. Hated that my breakdown was in a place where another more serious breakdown was close. It fueled that small internal fire that was simply burning rage. It strained that line inside of me that kept the darkness at bay.

Another whimper cleared my chest before a voice ripped me out of my thoughts. Webb was back. I didn’t hear what he said but I knew it was him. I heard his footsteps moving closer to me. I opened my eyes, biting my lower lip to stay quiet. I turned over and pushed to my hands, scooting so I could sit with my back against the wall. I pulled up my knees, wrapping my arms around my legs to try and keep myself warm and protect my body from any possible hits. Webb sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out running his fingers over my hand lightly. I tried my best not to flinch but did anyways. Webb handed me a bottle of water, the cap already off. “Drink, little one. The whole thing.”

I reached out and took the bottle of water cautiously, trying to see if it was some sort of trick. It didn’t do much good, but I smelled the bottle, trying to avoid getting drugged further. Webb chuckled. “It’s just water, little one. No need to be afraid. I still need you to be somewhat healthy if you are to be my pet. Any food and water I give you will be just that: food and water. No drugs of any kind,” Webb explained, his tone of voice putting me a little more at ease. I was still wary of him though. As a profiler I knew his sincerity and niceness was mostly fake, but as a victim I could be susceptible to falling for simple tricks like that. I was too scared to know much better. I took the bottle to my lips, knocking back the contents with ease and then shakily handing the bottle back, not saying a word.

Webb’s lips curled into a small smile, taking the bottle from me and setting it next to him on the bed. He reached back out with two fingers, stroking over the side of my neck. “I’m going to collar you again soon. I’m going to train you again. You won’t hesitate to follow commands. You’ll learn to be thankful for what your master gives you,” he murmured, his nails scrapping lightly across my skin.

I swallowed, looking at him with fearful eyes. I took a chance and spoke without expressed permission to do so. “I’m sorry for being disobedient, sir,” I whispered, the words almost inaudible. I said the words with as much energy as I could, trying to make them as real as possible. In a way they were real.

He cocked his head to the side, his lips twisting into a toothy grin. “Good boy,” he praised, his thumb wiping a stray tear from my face, “so much potential to be such a good pet for me. But you’ll still have to learn. Those pretty eyes aren’t going to trick me into relenting, little one.” I nodded my head. It was a small, timid nod.

He sighed. “Such beautiful eyes… even red from tears. Are you cold little one? You’re shaking.”

“Yes sir… may I have a shirt or something, please sir?” I asked quietly, scared that I would piss him off for being “ungrateful” or something.

He nodded. “Since you asked so nicely, little one. I’ll come back with something for you to wear and some more water,” he said, rising from his position on the bed and exiting, taking the empty water bottle with him.

I curled up tighter, shaking off the last of the drugs effects. I closed my eyes, trying to will myself to wake up from this nightmare. This couldn’t be happening. Could it? My eyes snapped back open when the door opened again. Webb stepped in, shutting the door behind him, some folded clothes in his hand. He walked over, setting them in front of me on the bed. “You can put them on, little one,” he informed me, watching as my face turned into skepticism. I nodded, unfolding and carefully standing up. I took the clothing, finding a pair of sweatpants and a baggy long sleeve t-shirt. It was doused in what I could only assume was Webb’s cologne. I put them on, sitting back down on the bed and scooting back, resuming my original position against the wall.

“T-thank you, sir,” I said quietly, curling back up. I was hoping he didn’t want sexual thanks. I hated smelling like him. I hated the mimicking of intimacy and consensual partnership. This wasn’t even a partnership. This was… I didn’t really know what this was besides being used sexually. He saw me as a slave of some sort. That’s all I could really see.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed, patting the area next to him. Fear flashed in my eyes, my mind telling me not to move but my body moved anyways. I slowly shifted to where he wanted me, curling in the same position without leaning against the wall, peering up at him with big doe eyes. He gripped my chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting my head and poking the small bruise I didn’t know was there from being slapped around. I flinched when he pressed down, a small spark of pain shooting through my face before subsiding into the background of my mind. He clenched his jaw, his grip on my chin tightening. I swallowed, perceiving that as a sign I had made him angry. He sensed the change in behavior. The tension in my body.

“Oh no, little one. I’m not upset at you. I’m upset that Leon left marks on your pretty face. I don’t like other people damaging my property. He shouldn’t have slapped you, even for disobedience. I shouldn’t have let him, little one. I’m sorry,” he said, his thumb running gently over the small bruise. My eyes softened, confused by the apology. I knew he was tricking me. He was trying to build rapport. Trying to use that so I would become more loyal to him. It was sadistic unsub 101. Yet I couldn’t help but give him a small, shy, submissive smile at the sound of his genuine tone of voice.

“Apology accepted sir,” I said quietly, adding on, “thank you for admitting that, sir.”

“Of course, little one. I have to go get your collar. Go kneel back in your spot,” he commanded, releasing my chin from his fingers.

I got up, stumbling as I stood but finding my balance and going over to where I had kneeled earlier. I sank to my knees, placing my hands on my thighs and looking ahead of me. I found it odd that he went from wanting to collar me soon to now, but I didn’t think to hard on it. I understood that he thought I was growing loyal to him faster than he originally expected. It was true. I was vulnerable at the moment. Any sliver of kindness, fake or not, I would be grateful for.

My eyes shot to the ground when the door opened again. Whether I wanted to or not, I would have to show Webb respect. My brain was torn already. Torn between thinking he deserved my submission and between trying to choke him to death. “Eyes up, little one. I want to see your eyes.” I brought my head up, locking my eyes on his. I was starting to get more scared. The last time he had ‘collared me’, he violently fucked my throat. I tried not let my fear show. I tried to remain impassive.

Webb bent down and clasped a light brown leather collar to my neck, a small metal tag around the loop in the front. He straightened, smiling down at me with extreme lust. I could see him getting hard. Not getting hard. He was hard. He unbuckled his belt, undoing his pants and pushing them down, freeing his erection and starting to stroke himself. “You know what you need to do, don’t you pet?” he asked wickedly, holding his cock a mere inch away from my mouth in expectation.

I didn’t pause this time. I wasn’t trying to earn more punishment. Two weeks without meals would be worse. Hell, a lot of things could be worse.

I took him all the way to the back of my throat before he could even push forward. He did anyway, making me choke. Breathing was already becoming a struggle. He pulled out a few inches, precum leaking onto my tongue as he pushed back in again. He held me there until I was choking hard, gasping for air around him. He pulled out, stroking his cock as he watched me splutter and cough and try desperately to take in air. The he put his cock back in my mouth and thrust in and out, making sure to hit the back of my throat with each thrust.

Tears welled in my eyes, my throat burning as he continued sliding in and out of it. “Don’t swallow when I cum in your mouth, little one. I want to see my cum in your mouth when I finish,” he growled through gritted teeth. He groaned as he got closer, holding me down again. I was swallowing around him, gagging and choking. He slid back out, cumming in my mouth and then pulling out all the way.

He stepped back, admiring how I looked. Tears streaked down my face, my body trying to take in air. I held my mouth open, letting him see his ejaculate. He reached into my mouth with one finger, dipping into it and then holding it up. “You’ll learn that this is the ultimate reward for obedience. Now swallow, pet. Swallow your master’s cum,” he commanded, a dangerous smile on his face. I swallowed, my throat burning as I did, finding it somewhat difficult. He pet my hair, running his fingers through the sweaty bangs that sat above my forehead.

He then stepped away, readjusting himself as he turned and walked over to one of the shelves. I couldn’t see what he was doing, my view blocked by his body. When he turned around, he was holding a rubber tourniquet used for first aid and syringe. Another syringe. With more drugs.

His smile got wider when he saw the panic on my face. I shook my head no, my mouth opening to tell him no but no sound coming out. He got to me before I could back away. Before I could do anything. He tied the tourniquet around my arm and then jammed the needle into my vein, a small scream leaving me as he pressed down the plunger. Before I could think any further, everything went black.

* * *

**_*two days earlier*_ **  
**Hotch’s POV**

I stared in silent shock as I watched Reese, pick up his desk phone. He dialed a number, holding the phone to his ear with a look of enraged disgust. That look aimed directly at me. I knew just how bad I had fucked up when he had started yelling at me in my office. I couldn’t even get a word in. And when he did finish, he had thrown me the black leather band that he wore around his wrist; the one I had gotten him for his 25th birthday just a few months prior. If we were going off technicality, it was a collar. _My_ collar. _My_ collar _for_ him.

The entire situation got worse when he addressed who was on the other side of the line. “Good morning, ma’am. This is Agent Reese Benson. I work in the BAU under Agent Hotchner,” Reese said impassively, his rage swimming in his eyes. He never looked away while he spoke. He looked at me. Sending his anger and his message directly at me. I knew who he was talking to. He was talking to Strauss. When he said he wanted to resign, I didn’t think he meant it. But he did. He was deadly serious. “I was wondering if I could meet with you sometime this week? Not today, but whenever you have a space in your schedule.”

Morgan looked at me and then back at Reese, stunned as to what was happening. Reid’s mouth was open. Garcia and JJ had stopped in their tracks, looking gob smacked. I didn’t blame them.

“Yes ma’am, I can do that. I’ll see you then,” he said coldly. I had the reputation for have an intimidating glare, but Reese’s steely expression looked like it could kill someone. “It’s easier to explain in person, ma’am…. See you then ma’am.”

He put the phone back, giving me one more pissed off look. He looked around, eyeing his co-workers but seemingly unaffected by them. Then he turned and strode out, his eyes still on me as the elevator closed. I didn’t move. I just looked at the elevator, clenching my jaw as anger rose inside me. Not anger at Reese. Anger at myself.

_Great fucking job, Hotchner! You called him weak! And he lost it! You knew he would. He was clearly unstable when he stepped in here and you call him weak and pathetic? What were you thinking!? Idiot._

I looked down at the rest of my team in the bullpen, looking at each other and then up at me for answers. I didn’t have answers right now. I turned on my heel and entered my office, slamming the door behind me. I collapsed into my desk chair, looking down at the paperwork littering my desk and then slamming my fist into my desk. “Damn it!” I yelled. I sighed, putting my elbows on my desk and then holding my head, massaging my temples.

“You have really fucked up now, Hotchner,” I muttered to myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Sorry the chapters are kind of short. I really can't push much past what I have. They will get longer as the content is discussed more and as I progress. The beginning chapters really just let me get my footing. 
> 
> Also, Hotch will have a POV in main chapters this time. I want to show you what this is like from both POVs, but I won't split the POV in the middle of a chapter like I just did very much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	3. Problematic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super short, I'm sorry :(
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyway

“Language… has created the word ‘loneliness’ to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word ‘solitude’ to express the glory of being alone.”  
-Paul Tillich

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

I sat in silence at my desk, a hand clenching into a fist in attempt to let go of palpable tension. “You have really fucked up now, Hotchner,” I muttered to myself in frustration. I massaged my temples with my fingers, trying to let go of my newfound anger. Anger at myself for being so careless and stupid and reckless. I already knew that Reese Benson was self-destructive, and I had managed to make it worse by blowing up at him.

_Great job, Hotchner. You’ve managed to lose both your submissive and a subordinate. Fucking wonderful. He’s going to need space, but I need to talk to him before he meets with Strauss. I’ll find him after work and try and fix this._

I sighed audibly, picking up a pen and trying to focus on the paperwork on my desk. There was a sea of it. I would close up the last case first before moving onto other cases and files that never seemed to end. I tried, remaining mostly unfocused. For once I couldn’t find my focus. I was shook up and trying to recover. I worked, or at least tried, for a half-hour, until I was pulled from my broken attempt at focus by Morgan’s yelling.

“HOTCH,” Morgan yelled, making me jump up and move to the threshold of my office doorway.

“Morgan what is it?” I asked, confused by the emerging panic in his voice and face.

Morgan ran a hand over his head. “Check your phone, man,” he said, biting his lower lip to contain the volatile emotions inside him. I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my slacks, looking at the screen. Horror slid across my face, anger re-emerging in my core.

_Reese Benson: Attached, 1 image._   
_Reese Benson: I have him back. He’s mine. WW._

I opened the attached image file, my horror at the growing situation becoming more visible. It was a picture of Reese kneeling at Webb’s feet. He was in Reese’s apartment. “DAVE,” I said loudly, not bothering to knock as I opened his door, “Webb is at Reese’s apartment. We’ve got to go.” Dave nodded, getting up and following me out the door and into the bullpen.

“Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, with me. JJ, I want you with Garcia. I want everything possible on Webb. Inform local PD and swat. I want that block locked down as fast as possible. We might be able to get to them before Webb disappears with Reese,” I ordered, keeping my voice calm as I exited the bullpen through the glass doors. Panic would not help this situation. I needed to keep calm. I needed to be the anchor for my team, who was no doubt extremely shook up. We stepped into the elevator. I looked at Morgan. “Did all of you get that message?” I asked, a steely expression on my face.

“Yeah. He sent it to all of us. We got it one after another. I’m worried, man. Reese is going to be off his game after the fight he had with you,” Morgan said, letting his fear show. Morgan was an extremely protective person. I understood his feeling of wanting to protect the young man. Morgan was trying his best to hold back on his anger. Anger directed at multiple different angles. I knew he was mad at me for doing something to fuck up. Now he was mad at himself for letting Reese walk out and into something that was more than likely going to end badly.

The ride to Reese’s apartment seemed to last an eternity, the tension and stress in the car was palpable. It was almost physically visible. We got through the roadblock, stepping out and strapping on our vest’s as we planned on how to move into the building.

“Chief Thompson? I’m Agent Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU. What’s the blueprint of the building look like?” I asked, pulling over the final strap of my vest. Thompson was already in his swat gear, waiting for us so we could start moving.

Thompson gave me a curt nod, pointing at the blueprint laid over the hood of an SUV. “We send two teams. One moves directly towards the room the hostage may be held in, the other clears the bottom of the building and moves up. We meet in the middle. You’ll take point on your Agent’s floor. We don’t have the skills to talk down a serial killer. I’ll lead the back team. Channel 4 on COMs.”

I nodded, moving over to my team to give them the run down. “COMs on 4. We’ll be moving onto Reese’s floor with a detachment of swat members. We’ll meet the swat chief on Reese’s floor. Hopefully they are both still here, if not we lock the scene down and proceed as we normally do in hostage situations. Let’s go. Morgan, I want you on point with me. We take the side stairwell.”

Everyone nodded and let me lead the way into the building and then into the side stairwell. I held us at the bottom. “COMs on 4. Team 2, are you in position and ready for us to move?” I asked into my wire.  
“This is Thompson. Team 2 is ready to go. We move on your go.”

I looked to my team, taking a deep breath and silently asking them if they were ready to move. The collective nod and looks of determination gave me my answer. “We’re on the move.” We started moving up the stairs to the 9th floor, opening the door onto the 9th and moving to different sides of the hall. Morgan led on the right side, Prentiss and Reid behind him. I led on the left, Dave and some swat guys behind me. We got to his door, stacking on either side, Morgan in front ready to kick it down.

“In three, we go in. Clear it effectively, unless they are both in there. If they are both in there, swat stays out here. Don’t touch a god damn thing until I give the say-so,” I instructed, nods all around telling me they understood. “3… 2… 1, go.”

Morgan kicked the door in, letting us step inside. I led the way, gun pointed up as I looked into the dark apartment. A singular lamp lit up the main room. No one was inside. “Reid. Hallway.” Reid moved towards the main hall that led to his bedroom, opening each door and clearing it.

“Clear,” Reid yelled, letting us know no one was here. We were too late.

“Damn it,” Morgan mumbled, holstering his weapon.

Prentiss pulled gloves out of her pocket, squatting down to pick something up. “Guys… we may have a problem,” she announced, standing back up and moving towards the light. She was holding a syringe. A used syringe.

“It’s Hankel all over again,” Reid murmured, furrowing his brow, “we’ll have to test the syringe to determine what kind of drug it was. Hopefully nothing addictive and hopefully only a one-time thing in Reese’s case.” Reid understood being drugged against his will. It could ruin Reese’s life. Actually, all of this could ruin Reese’s life. If we found him in time. It would be a tricky situation considering Webb plans on keeping Reese as some sort of slave. That could mean a range of ordeals and outcomes. Each of them worst than the last.

“Alright. What behavior has changed and what has stayed the same? What is different from Texas?” I asked, holstering my weapon.

“He stalked Reese this time. He’s fixated on Reese in particular,” Reid said, not going into a rambling fit like he normally did when he was nervous.

“Last time he grabbed him on a blitz attack. This time Reese is his end game. Although that end game is to disappear and keep him. I’ll call Garcia, dig up as much information on Webb as possible,” Prentiss said, setting the syringe on the coffee table and stepping outside into the hall.

* * *

“What do you mean there isn’t any further records of Walter Webb?” I asked angrily.

“Sir, before 2014 there is no Walter Webb. This guy could be working under any alias known to man,” Garcia said cautiously.

Morgan let out an audible exhalation, frustration becoming a more universal mood in the conference room. Before he could get a word out, Anderson was in the room with an envelope. “Someone sent these in for you, Hotch,” Anderson said, handing me the envelope and then exiting the room. I opened the envelope, becoming even more angry when I saw the contents.

“What is it?” JJ asked, eyeing me quizzically.

I pulled the photos out, tossing them onto the conference table in frustration and anger. “Surveillance photos of Reese,” I answered through gritted teeth. Morgan slammed a fist into the table, exercising his anger. I let my head fall into my hands, a tense laugh leaving my chest. “I have really fucked up,” I muttered to myself.

“Why did the two of you fight this morning?” Dave asked impassively, keeping his professionalism.

I looked up from my hands, putting my hands on my waist and sighing. I clenched my jaw, thinking about what to say and what not to say. “He went out and got drunk last night somewhere in the city. Made himself unreachable. A friend of his died and I got pissed at him and said somethings I shouldn’t have,” I replied, looking at the floor as shame set in.

Morgan stilled, looking at me pointedly. “What did you say, Hotch?”

I bit my bottom lip, trying to keep myself impassive. “I made the mistake of calling him weak for going out and getting drunk,” I said, looking Morgan directly in the eyes. I didn’t want to let the mistake hinder our ability to work.

Morgan’s face fell, his anger and frustration boiling over. “What the hell, man? In what universe did you think that was ok? He got kidnapped and _raped_ three months ago! And you called him weak for drinking because he was in pain? What the hell!” Morgan bellowed, pivoting and making sure his anger was directed at me directly.

I closed my eyes, biting my tongue. “I know, Morgan. I’m aware of how problematic that was. But I didn’t know that it would open us up to this,” I hissed back.

“We need to stay focused,” JJ interjected, not letting this go any further than it was going.

* * *

**Author’s Note**

It’s a really short chapter, I know. I’m sorry about that but I have hit writers block (for the alternate POV, not for the torture that’s kind of planned in the next 2-3 chapters). The word count will get longer as I grow out my ideas more.

I want to talk about the tags. I have ‘eating disorder’ as one of the tags but I’m not quite sure what I’m going to portray is actually an ED. When we get to that someone will have to let me know. Also, just know that somethings might not be medically/psychologically accurate. It’s fan fiction. It will not be perfect. Just bear with me.

I also wanted to let you guys know that these next few chapters DO NOT HAPPEN ONE DAY AFTER THE OTHER! These chapters are technically taking place over a FIVE MONTH PERIOD. FIVE MONTHS. A long time. I’m simply not writing tons and tons of non-con because it would get repetitive. I’m writing what’s key to set the stage for the long recovery process. That just needed to be said so you understand the development of other disorders and Stockholm Syndrome. But don’t worry, Reese will get revenge… I promise. It will be satisfying.

Thanks for reading and sorry for how short the update is :(  
-mitchmatch24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Again, sorry it's so short.


	4. Twisted Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My psychological way of thinking is what was truly broken. I was on the verge of breaking fully. I knew that would come. It almost always did. Adapt or die. That was the rule for this sick, twisted game."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF RAPE, drugging, asphyxiation, psychological torture, starvation, onset of D.I.D and stockholm syndrome, sexual slavery, suicidal thoughts, intrusive thoughts, etc. PLEASE USE DISCRETION. THIS CHAPTER IS DARK. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, although was kind of hard to write. Please, please, please, mind the trigger warnings.

“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.”  
-Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

The cold concrete made my shins scream at me in pain. Kneeling for hours upon hours at a time took a toll on my knees and my shins. They were bruised and sore. So sore. My brain slid in and out of focus, dissociating for sporadic bursts and then coming back into the here and now. I had learned a long time ago how to dissociate. It helped. Not much, but a little bit. Time went a little faster. I don’t know why I hoped for time to go faster. Hell, I didn’t even know how long I had been wherever I was. It was probably more than a week, but I still wasn’t sure. Time got blended together and jumbled up because all I did day in and day out was kneel. Kneel and wait for Webb to come back and rape me.

On the ‘up-side’, he had stopped drugging me. I deduced that he was using some sort of hard drug in small amounts. I was already facing withdraw symptoms. Not very many, but a few. And it didn’t help that I was hungry. And cold. And in pain. My body was already bruised and somewhat broken. My psychological way of thinking is what was truly broken. I was on the verge of breaking fully. I knew that would come. It almost always did. Adapt or die. That was the rule for this sick, twisted game.

There were a few rules. Not very many, but they were still there. Those rules were:  
1\. Never hesitate to follow orders.  
2\. Speak when spoken to, unless you are greeting your master or thanking him.  
3\. Only move when told to move.  
4\. Never look up at your master unless told to do so.  
5\. Always be grateful for what you are given.  
6\. Never struggle or fight or run.

Those were the rules. The only rules to this game. It was stupid to call it a game. This was life now. My life. In some ways it wasn’t that bad. It was easier than working cases and trying to get myself together. It was easier than worrying about people all the time. The only thing I had to do now was focus on following the rules. The bad part was that the rules involved rape. Although my mind betrayed me sometimes. Sometimes I didn’t call it that. Sometimes I simply thought of it as sex. Sex. As though I was less of a person and that my consent in the matter, didn’t matter at all. It truly didn’t. Webb wouldn’t care. The only time he would care is if I became unusable. I was still usable.

_At least someone wants to use you. Someone wants you. Be happy that someone wants you. Be thankful someone liked you enough to quite literally steal you. Collar you. See you on a daily basis. Webb isn’t that bad. He’s alright. He treats you well. Be happy that he wants to treat you well. He likes you. He is pleased by you. That’s what matters._

**_Whore. You’re honestly so pathetic. If you were a real man, you’d fight Webb. You’d try and get free. But no. Because you’re a pathetic, weak little whore. Bitch._ **

_If it means someone wants me, then fine. There’s no point in fighting anymore. I wasn’t worth anything to begin with. What would I free myself for? What is there to live for? Nothing. There is nothing to live for._

_**Oh, so you’re just going to throw away your entire career? Throw away your friendships? That’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. You’re more worthless now than you used to be.** _

_Worthless? Webb would say I’m worth something. I must be if he escaped prison and tracked me down. He wants me. He treats me well._

**_He doesn’t treat you well. He rapes you and you let him. Weakling. So fucking weak. So fucking stupid. He’s tricking you. You know that. Did that degree you earned in psychology just go out the window? Think about it, bitch. Stupid little bitch._ **

_No. That’s not the same. It isn’t the same. Just stop it. Stop it. Go away. Leave me alone. You need to leave me alone. Then I can follow the rules. Shut up and go away._

**_You’re the stupidest person I think I’ve ever seen. It’s funny that you’ll follow orders now, but you couldn’t for your job. For Aaron. It’s hilarious. He would think you’re even more pathetic now. Rightfully so._ **

_What does Aaron know? He never cared. He just lied to me. He lied. He lied, he lied, he lied. I follow rules now because they deserve to be followed. Webb treats me well. He doesn’t lie to me. They aren’t the same. They are not the same._

_**Whatever you say, bitch boy.** _

I kept kneeling. And kneeling. My knees and shins burned, stiffness seizing my entire body while a dull ache began forming in my entire body. My back wanted to slouch from constantly being straight without any sort of support. But I didn’t move. That would be disobedient. I wanted to look up and around and try and work out the crick in my neck. But I didn’t move. That would be disobedient. I didn’t want to be disobedient. I didn’t want to upset Webb any further. All that mattered was being obedient. That’s all that mattered. Webb’s opinion was all that mattered. His approval is what mattered.

A small shiver ran up my spine as the cold began to nip at me. I was only dressed in a long sleeve t-shirt. One of Webb’s t-shirts. It was plain black and somewhat worn, but I didn’t mind. It was better than having no clothes at all. The cold floor wasn’t helping my body temperature though. Besides the shirt I wore my collar.

**_No. No. Not your collar. The collar. You aren’t property, dipshit. You are your own person. Get it right. Stop being so stupid. Stop letting Webb trick you. Stop it._ **

_No. He isn’t tricking me. He isn’t lying to me. All of this is different. Stop. Go away. You’ll piss Webb off. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop doing that._

**_No. I won’t leave you alone. I’m the only voice in your head that is looking at the cold reality. At least I understand you aren’t property. Webb is manipulating you. Making you his slave. Stop letting him do that. It’s pathetic. It’s weak. Stop being so damn weak._ **

_I’m not being weak. I’m not. Stop talking to me. Stop. Go away._

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I heard the door creak as it opened. I had become used to the sound. I blinked back into reality and prepared myself for what was ahead. While it was usually just sex, I didn’t know what was in store. Sometimes the routine changed. Not often, but sometimes.

“Good afternoon, little one. Have you been good?” Webb asked, his deep voice ringing throughout the room. The door creaked as it closed, the slight slam making me flinch.

I nodded, not looking up from the floor. “Yes sir.”

Webb approached me, standing before me. His fingers danced atop my scalp, playing with my hair. He liked playing with my hair. I liked him playing with my hair. “Good. Are you hungry, little one? You’ve earned the privilege to eat again,” he murmured, his fingers starting to massage my scalp, moving to the sides of my head. My lips curled into a small smile, resisting the urge to lean into the touch.

“Yes sir,” I said quietly, contentment seeping into my words. I was happy that I had earned food again. Having sex every night or day was hard without food.

Webb was humming his own satisfaction. “Eyes up.” My eyes snapped up to meet his, innocence sneaking to the surface inside them. I think he enjoyed my innocence. I had lost my innocence a long time ago, but the feeling was still somehow there.

“Good boy,” Webb praised, his fingers sliding down to stroke over the side of my cheek. He ran his fingers through my bangs, brushing them out of my face and eyes. I hadn’t had a haircut in a long time. I looked like Reid when he had ‘boy band hair.’ My lips twitched from the want to smile. He didn’t praise often. I liked when he praised me. “When I leave the room, you can stand and stretch and then sit back down. Legs crossed. Don’t kneel.”

I gave a small nod. “Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

Webb smiled down at me. He then turned on his heel and exited the room. I stood, stretching out. I bent forward, trying to escape the stiffness in my legs. I then stood straight again, raising my arms and stretching my back out. And then I sat back down, crossing my legs. My knees were thankful. I rested my hands in my lap, interlacing my fingers and scraping my nails together. I often played with my fingers when I was bored at night and couldn’t sleep. Sometimes sleeping was difficult. Not usually, though. I pulled the hem of the oversized shirt down a bit further, running the tops of my nails over the soft material. I liked the softness of his shirt. It was comforting. I was learning to adapt, though. Learning to let go of fear as I accepted my new reality.

At the same time, I could feel the darkness straining inside me. Building with each passing hour. The rage fueled fire growing taller and consuming more of me. I could feel the beginning of a split, my own person splitting into two distinct people. Dissociative Identity Disorder. The mind’s creation of another personality to deal with trauma. I could feel the build. Feel the tension. If my mind finally broke, the alter wouldn’t be pretty. It would be darker. Angrier and more aggressive. It would be more… raw.

Webb returned but I didn’t look up. I didn’t have permission or instruction after sitting down to look up. “You can look around freely, pet. You can always look around when you receive a meal. But only during that time. Understand?” Webb asked as he sat down in front of me.

I nodded, a small smile on my face at the new freedom. “Yes sir. Thank you, sir,” I said quietly, trying to hide the twinge of excitement at the plate of food in front of me. It was pasta. Penne. It was just pasta, though. Carbs. He set a plastic fork on the top of the plate, still cautious. Even though I was becoming more subservient, he still didn’t want to risk giving me a possible weapon. He opened a bottle of water, setting it next to the plate. “Eat,” he ordered calmly, watching me intently.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I tentatively picked up the fork and plate, stabbing at the pasta and bringing a bite to my mouth. I scarfed the food. I didn’t do it on purpose. It just happened. I normally ate fast, but I ate even quicker when coming off of a week of starvation. Webb chuckled as I set the plate and fork back down in front of me and picked up the water. I looked at him, not giving much of my thoughts away. I just gave a small smile and then took a long drink of the water. Webb reached out, his outstretched hand petting the side of my head. I leaned into the touch this time, eager for the small, intimate connection. “Eager, little one?” Webb asked in amusement.

I nodded shyly, my skin flushing. I wasn’t eager for him to fuck me again. That hurt. I didn’t want to feel anymore pain, but it didn’t matter what I wanted. He liked it when I screamed. I was eager for small pets and touches.

**_He isn’t even fucking you. He’s raping you. There’s a difference. A major difference. Stop blending those lines. This isn’t sex. This is rape._ **

_No. This is different. It has to be different. Stop talking. You’re messing things up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up._

His fingers trailed down, flicking over the collar. Two slipped under it, tugging forward lightly. I let my body lean forward, not moving or trying to balance myself. That would be fighting. That would be disobedient. Disobedience meant punishment. Disobedience meant death. His thumb brushed over my chin, lust clear on his face and in his eyes. His self-control was slipping again. His resolve was cracking. “Such an obedient pet,” Webb whispered, his fingers sliding back down the column of my throat.

He let me go, leaning back and watching me again. I straightened, drinking the rest of the water. I knew what was coming next. It wasn’t hard to put together. It was routine. The only thing new being the fact that I got to eat. I inhaled, trying to prepare as much as possible. Trying to force myself to the brink of dissociation so I could dissociate fully once it started. With a growl, Webb stood and pointed to the bed. “Bed. You know what I want. Do it now, little one.”

I stood on shaky legs, swallowing as I moved over to the bed and laid on top of it, folding over the edge and waiting for him to come over and fuck me.

**_Stop saying it’s sex. Stop doing that. It isn’t sex. Sex involves consent. You aren’t consenting. This is rape. Stop letting him do this. Stop. Stop it._ **

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I heard the familiar jingle and rattle of his belt as he approached. What I wasn’t prepared for was the hiss of leather moving against the material of his jeans. He was taking off his belt. Why was he taking off his belt? I tensed, the hairs on my neck standing on end. That voice in my head screaming and yelling at me to fight him off. To resist. But now I was paralyzed again, fear knotting in my gut.

Webb ran his fingers through my hair and gripped, yanking my head back and exposing my neck and throat. He put his belt over my neck, his intentions incredibly clear. He was going to choke me. Choke me out and listen to me scream and then struggle for air. He let go of my hair, tightening the belt around my neck. The denim of his jeans scraped the backs of my thighs as he lined himself up with me.

Before he pushed inside me, he leaned into my back, his lips brushing over my ear. “I can’t wait to hear you scream, little one,” he said in a low voice. It was predatory. Then he was pushing in, ripping me open yet again. I let out a blood-curdling scream as pain re-emerged inside me, taking me over. But my screams spurred him on. From the start, his pace was brutal. I was going to bleed again this time, although there was probably going to be more blood than normal. All I could feel was pain. My mind was trying to push over the edge and dissociate but couldn’t. I was too panicked. Too scared. I had thought about it too much and now I had essentially fucked myself over.

I screamed again, tears streaking down my face. I could feel sweat misting my skin, my nails digging into the material of the cot. Bile churned in my gut, anger and shame crashing over me like a wave. My entire body became impossibly tense. He groaned, thrusting in and out quickly, getting off on my fear and pain. Then he pulled my neck back using the belt, constricting around my trachea and cutting off my breathing. My mouth opened as I struggled to take in air to no avail.

Webb grunted, pleased by my choking. I thought I was going to black out. He released the belt and let my head fall back forward, listening as I coughed and heaved as I gasped for air. Another strangled cry left my chest. A terror-filled cry as another tear fell down my face. His hands grabbed my shoulders with a grip that was tight enough to bruise. He pulled my down to meet his thrusts, moaning as I screamed again. The pain became almost unbearable, but I couldn’t get away from it. Sweat coursed down my forehead and got into my eyes, making them sting with tears and with pain.

Empty cries and wails and pleads left my throat in a rush, ceasing when he pulled the belt and choked me again. I coughed and writhed and gasped, my lungs burning with the need for air. He grunted again, his fingers digging into my hips to the point of pain. I felt blood leak down my sides from how hard he dug his nails in.

 _“Fuck,”_ he bit out, shooting his load inside me with a groan. He pulled out, grabbing me by the hair and yanking me off the bed and onto the floor. “Clean my cock off, pet,” he ordered, his chest heaving from how hard he came. I took his dick in my mouth, cleaning off cum and blood until he went soft. He bent down, removing the belt from my neck and then hauling me on my feet and onto the bed. He sauntered over to one of the shelves as he tucked himself back into his jeans.

When he came back with a syringe full of whatever drug he used, I didn’t plead for him not to. I was bleeding onto the mattress, semen and sweat dripping and mixing with the crimson liquid. Webb slid the needle into my vein and pushed the plunger down, the high gripping me and letting me fall into sleep. I didn’t fight the high anymore. My body slumped onto the cot, my eyes closing as I tripped in my dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading :)


	5. Whispers of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I held it up so he could see, my small smile fading into a painful one. “Album he made. Whispers of Hope. Reese Benson. 2014. He mentioned music from his college years, but I never knew he recorded an album,” I said sadly, handing the CD to Reid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF RAPE, torture, cutting, blood, Stockholm syndrome, sexual slavery, etc. PLEASE USE DISCRETION. 
> 
> The graphic bits happen in Reese's pov later in the chapter. You can skip them if you want. I'll summarize what's key to the story in the notes for anyone who doesn't want to read the graphic bits. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

“Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn.”  
-William Nicholson

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

I sat at my desk, my eyes blank and unfocused as I looked at the files and paperwork scattered atop the wooden surface. I had a meeting today with Strauss. A meeting that was going to be more devasting and exhausting than they normally were. I glanced out my window, looking at the bullpen. Everyone was at their desks, working diligently on files and reports and consults. Except for one. The reason the one wasn’t working was because he had been missing for 2 months. Reese’s desk looked exactly the way it did when he was kidnapped. The only changes were the notes, cards, letters, and small gifts atop the surface. I hadn’t had the strength to get rid of the small memorial.

I pushed back, opening one of my desk drawers and taking out the black leather band I had gotten him so long ago. I toyed with it, running my fingers across the engraved metal and embossed leather on the inside. Pain twisted in my core. The one thing I had promised him was to keep him safe and I had failed. Failed again, might I add. First Haley. Now Reese. It wasn’t any easier than the first time. What hurt more was the thought that he was more than likely still suffering. Webb wouldn’t kill him. Not after everything he did to snatch him from right under me. From right under everyone. I closed my eyes, trying to repress my anger and venomous desolation.

I remember coming home the first night after Reese was kidnapped. Jack was crushed. He sobbed in my arms for a half an hour. I cried with him. It was harder for him to come to grips with than Haley’s death. He hadn’t had the mental capabilities to truly understand the detriments of his mother’s death, and while he still missed her, it hadn’t hurt him as bad as it could have. This did. He was fully capable of understanding the remnants of the situation. This struck Jack and cut him all the way to the core. Sometimes he would start to cry doing everyday activities. It was understandable. He was grieving. I tried to give him some hope, but neither of us believed my reassurances.

After two months we got notice that he was up for eviction. He didn’t get a chance to pay his rent. The entire team went to the building to explain the situation and then were forced to make a decision; either pay for the unit or move Reese out and put his items in storage. If we couldn’t get rid of the flowers, we surely couldn’t get rid of his personal belongings. We opted for storage. We didn’t have a singular lead in the case and there wasn’t a good chance we would even see the man again. He would die in Webb’s possession before he would manage to get out of…. Whatever was happening to him. I had a good idea of what he was going through. It wasn’t hard to profile.

It was hard to pack his things up. More difficult than I thought it would be. What made it harder was the fact that the entire team came to help. No one wanted to grieve around each other in his home. No one wanted to give into the idea that he was truly gone. And no one wanted to dig through the intimate details of his personal life in this way. Who would? Who would want to learn about your friend, co-worker, team member by having to pack up and store all of their things because they physically weren’t there? No one. No one ever wants to do that. It hurt looking at all the items that none of us had ever seen before… not even me.

While packing things that were stored in his T.V. cabinet, I had found a small box that contained someone’s medals and nameplate from the service. There had been a picture stuffed inside on the bottom of it. It was a picture of Reese from his teenage years, his arm around another man who was only a few years older, broad smiles on their faces. There had also been a framed picture of his mother. And another with his mother and his father on their wedding day. There was music memorabilia, stacks of fliers and notebooks stacked neatly under the shelves. I had even found a CD with recordings of his own music on them. I smiled wryly as I looked at the picture on the CD cover; it was one of him leaning against a building with a pair of aviators on, smoking a cigarette. There was an album name printed above him. _Whispers of Hope._ This was his first, and presumably last, album he had ever recorded.

“What’ve you got there?” Reid asked, shoving another stack of books from the nearby shelf into a large cardboard box.

I held it up so he could see, my small smile fading into a painful one. “Album he made. _Whispers of Hope._ Reese Benson. 2014. He mentioned music from his college years, but I never knew he recorded an album,” I said sadly, handing the CD to Reid.

Reid looked inside the cabinet, pulling out an older style stereo and putting in on top of the cabinet. He unplugged the TV, putting the disc in and hitting play. Morgan and Garcia came back into the living room, pausing when they saw what we were doing. Reese’s voice filled the air, the chords of a guitar accompanying it. It was a sadder song, the tone meant to portray a hopeless brokenness and complex sorrow.

**_“Whispers of hope,_ **  
**_And the haunting of memories._ **  
**_Clinging to joy,_ **  
**_With empty pleasantries._ **  
**_I don’t understand,_ **  
**_People’s hope-filled dreams._ **  
**_Did God leave you too?_ **  
**_Or was that only meant for me?_ **  
**_So here I sit in numbness,_ **  
**_With the whispers of hope,_ **  
**_And dark disparities.”_ **

“Is that Reese?” Prentiss asked as Reid turned down the volume on the stereo.

I nodded, biting back a stab of pain. Reid answered so I wouldn’t have to, wiping a tear from his eye as he did, “yeah… it was an album he recorded in college. Hotch found it shoved in the back of his cabinet.”

I listened as Reese went into his second verse, the bass taking over more of the sound and accompanying his vocals as he added more bass to his voice.

_**“How do they picture me?** _  
_**Is anyone listening?** _  
_**When I think of the future,** _  
_**Why’s it so sickening?** _  
_**Listen to my heartbeat.** _  
_**Listen to my lungs breathe.** _  
_**Listen to the voices,** _  
_**They’re starting to get to me.** _  
_**And when I fade…** _  
_**into your memory,** _  
_**Do me a favor,** _  
_**and try to remember me.”** _

And then he went back into the chorus, the bass mellowing out as he got a tad bit higher in pitch. The song itself was deep, his writing ability taking me by surprise. I didn’t know why. Reese was a complex thinker. A complex person. His vocals and guitar playing ability just took everything up a notch. He could have made it in the music industry if this was his start. It was astounding.

“The kid’s good,” Derek said, voicing what we were all thinking. Garcia came back over to us with her tablet from where her bag was in the kitchen.

She put it in front of us, showing us something on the screen. “Vanderbilt paid homage to him yesterday considering the story was splashed all over the news. They shared old videos collected from alumni of him playing shows and linked them from their socials. They even put out posts on their social media accounts thanking him for his sacrifice and dedication in the line of duty. We can pull the video up on the T.V. if we plug it back in,” Garcia said, tears welling in her eyes as she tried not to get too emotional.

We switched the plugs again, letting the T.V. have power over the stereo. Garcia sat on the couch, pulling up the footage and connecting it to the T.V. so we could all see it. It started with the shaking of the camera, the person filming trying to get a better angle as Reese backed up from the microphone, speaking to the drummer and bassist. He was in jeans and a gray dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the first three buttons undone so it was open at the throat, reveling his chest and neck. Even as a teenager he looked damn good. His hair was slick with sweat and his forehead gleamed with it from under the stage lights. It looked like he was playing in a popular bar, the sound of the patrons yelling and hollering and whistling taking over.

Reese smiled and laughed as he listened to something the drummer and bassist said to him, readjusting the earpiece in his ear. He rubbed his forehead against his bicep, wiping sweat away. The bar was probably small and hot considering it seemed to be packed out and the lights weren’t helping much. Reese went back to the microphone, smiling as he addressed the crowd. “It sounds like everyone is enjoying themselves tonight… that’s great. Now, we’re gonna play a little song I wrote called ‘Sinners and Saints.’”

He began playing the opening chords, moving his head in time as he absorbed the music. He told me that he didn’t socialize much and was awkward around people in college, but that didn’t look to be true at all.

_**“Oh, sinners and saints,** _  
_**Already set in their ways,** _  
_**But that’s ok,** _  
_**Because I’m here to play…”** _

We listened and watched the entire song. I was somewhat blown away, as were the rest of the team who didn’t expect that type of… anything from Reese. The song had been incredibly sexual, talk of hook-ups and making out while tripping on drugs a major theme. It was ironic considering how inexperienced he said he was in college and how socially awkward he was.

We stopped the video, looking at each other. Reid had a few tears running down his face. Garcia did too. I thought I was going to lose it, my composure slipping away just a little. Morgan gave a small, thin smile. “Well… at least we know he can talk dirty,” Morgan joked. I chuckled softly, sighing as I looked at the image on the screen.

A knock on my office door pushed me out of my thoughts and memories. “Come in,” I said, sliding back into my impassive mask. JJ opened the door, holding up a new case file. I nodded, putting the collar back in my desk drawer and standing up, exiting my office.

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

The concrete wall was cold against my back. Everything felt cold. My hair was standing on end, goosebumps running up and down my arms. I was nude, my body hanging from chains affixed to points on the wall. My head hung forward; my eyes heavy as dull pain set in. I had only been hanging like that for a few minutes. I wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen or what Master was going to do.

_**No. His name is Webb. Webb. Stop calling him that. Stop giving into him. Stop it. Stop. Don’t let him win. Stop letting him win. Stop doing that. You’re a person. A person. Not an object. Get it together.** _

The door opened and he stepped inside, agitation radiating off him. I felt nervous, not wanting to disobey him and make him even more upset. He didn’t deserve to be upset. He was taking care of me. For that, he didn’t deserve to have to get frustrated or agitated. He didn’t speak as he approached me, the only sound being the sound of a switch blade. Cool metal rested under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. His gaze was steely and cold. That wasn’t good for me. It meant whatever was going to happen was going to hurt. A lot.

“I saw something online that mentioned you… it made me so angry seeing it, too. I need you to know who you belong to. Who owns you. I need to mark you again, little one. I’m going to mark you so you never forget who your master is,” he explained calmly, the knife trailing down, barely scraping my skin.

He then added pressure, leaving a small cut on my pectoral. It wasn’t very long, and it wasn’t very deep. Only deep enough to scar, but not deep enough to need medical attention. He added another next to it. And another. He cut into me again and again, watching the blood start to leak out from the cuts. They were starting to sting. Just barely. He switched to my other pectoral, repeating the process. I took in a shaky breath, the pain becoming more prominent.

“You can make noise, little one. I love it when you scream,” he murmured, a flicker of predatory hunger in his voice. I let my head fall back against the wall, the shackles cutting into my wrists. Blood began dripping down my chest and wrists, staining my skin. I had become a lot paler since I had been here. Wherever here was. The knife moved down, slicing into my abdomen. That hurt more.

“Ah… master… please, it hurts,” I whispered, my eyes squeezing shut as he cut again.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Now, now… no more of that. What’s your purpose, little one?” he asked, stopping momentarily and gripping my hair, forcing me to look at him.

My mind went blank for a moment, trying to let go of physical pain and answer his question. I didn’t answer quick enough, though. He smacked me across the face, my head snapping to the side as pain blossomed across my cheek, not doubt already red. I scrambled to answer. “To serve you, master! To serve you!” I answered in a rush.

_Stop doing that. Stop being disobedient. Stop it. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._

“Good boy. Don’t you ever forget your purpose. Ever, pet. You serve me and me alone. You are my property and I’ll do with you whatever I see fit, understand? Or do I need to teach you again?” he queried.

I shook my head frantically, “no master. I understand. I understand, master.” I remembered the punishment from last time. I shuddered at the thought. He had stuck my head in a barrel of cold water over and over and over. Then he fucked me with the belt around my neck, choking me over and over. Then he starved me for a few days.

The smile he gave me in response was feral, his pupils dilating as he became more and more turned on. “Good. I’m glad my last lesson stuck with you, pet. You will always be mine. My perfect little slave,” he murmured, slicing into my skin again. The sting and burn got worse; the skin here more sensitive. A choked gasp left my lungs, trying to hold back a cry. I didn’t bite my bottom lip. That would be disobedient. He wanted to hear me. He skimmed the flat side of the blade over my pelvic bone, teasing the flesh gently. Then he started carving, connecting the lines together to draw something.

I let out a small cry, my body twitching and flinching. I couldn’t help the reaction. I was too wound up emotionally. I could feel the blood running down my arms and down my entire body. It wasn’t much but it was still there. He hummed, entertained and aroused by my pain. Whimpers and cries and gasps left me as he kept cutting, leaving hundreds of small lines all over the front of my body. He put the sheathed the blade, putting it in his back pocket and leaning down, unclipping my legs and then my arms, letting me fall against him. I got my footing, waiting for him to tell me what he wanted next. I repeated the rules in my head, chanting them to myself.

_Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._

He turned me around, pushing me forward and re-shackling my arms and hands above my head. I bowed my head, my forehead resting against the cold concrete. I heard the jingling of his belt and the sound of his zipper being lowered. The familiar feeling of his jeans against the backs of my thighs telling me what he was going to do. I let out a breath, waiting as he prepared to breach me. He spit, two slick fingers brushing over my hole. Then he positioned himself, the tip of his cock barely pushing forward. I relaxed myself as much as possible, trying to make this easier on the both of us. The voice in my head screamed. It wasn’t even really a voice now. It was more like another person entirely.

**_GOD! What the hell are you doing!? Why do you let him do this to us? Why? I wouldn’t be so weak. You need to fight harder. Resist. Stop letting him do this to us. Stop doing this to us, Reese._ **

_Will you shut the fuck up? Who even are you? Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._

Before the voice could response, a pang of pain welled up, making me cry out. Then there was the snap of the blade and a pressure at my shoulder. He cut into me, connecting these lines as well. “Mine, little one. You are mine. My property to do anything I want with. Always mine,” he growled in my ear, his hips moving at a brutal pace, “Christ, little one. Always so god damn tight. Just for me. Mm, fuck.” He paid no mind to my half-hearted pleas for him to slow down, it only made him pound into me faster. He never stopped cutting, either. The cuts on my chest were starting to itch and burn as sweat misted my skin and got into the open wounds.

“I’m going to fill your tight ass up, little one, and you’re going to thank me after I do. You’re going to thank your master for using you and giving you his cum,” he commanded, his fingers digging into my waist to the point of pain. I was already bruised there so he wasn’t making it any better. It didn’t matter. I was his. He could do whatever he wanted to me.

_Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._

**_Stop fucking saying that. Stop it. Stop doing this to us. Fight it. Fight it._ **

_You’re going to get us into trouble. He gets to decide what happens to us. Who are you? Leave me alone. Just go away. You’re going to make me disobedient. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._

_**I’m Benjamin. The other fucking person inside you. Let me handle this. I can stop this. Stop saying that mantra or whatever. It’s getting us nowhere.** _

_No! Now go away, Benjamin. Go away. Go away. Go away._

Master groaned, getting closer to climax. He was breathing hard behind me. His hand started to wonder, sliding up to feel my cut-up abdomen. The blood had dried, my skin sticky and stained crimson. With a few more thrusts, he came, moaning as he found his release. He pulled out, letting his cum drip down my thighs. “What do you say, little one?”

“Thank you, master,” I croaked. I felt exhausted. And dirty. But it didn’t matter how I felt. Master’s opinion was the only one that mattered.

He reached up and freed my hands, turning me around and pulling into an embrace so he could move me. He sat me on the bed, looking down at me as he put his cock back in his jeans. We stared at each other, brokenness and pain surfacing in my irises. He stepped closer to me, outstretching his arms in silent demand for me to come to him. I put my arms around him as he lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist. He carried me out of the room. I had never been outside the room before. Never needed to.

He carried me into a bedroom and then through to a bathroom. A master bathroom. He set me on the bathroom counter, looking up at me. “Don’t move from where your sitting until I tell you or pick you back up, little one,” he ordered firmly.

“Yes master.”

He then released me, turning around and turning on the water and filling up the bathtub. I watched as he moved around the bathroom, taking a bag of Epsom salts and putting some into the water. He turned the water off but didn’t come and get me. Instead he walked out of the room and then came back with another long sleeve shirt and some boxers, setting them on the counter space next to me.

“Come on, little one. Let me clean you up. You deserve it for being such a good pet for your master,” he said, picking me back up and setting me into the water gently. I winced, the water making all the cuts on my body sting. Master chuckled softly, letting me get adjusted to the water while he got some soap and a solo cup. He set the body wash and the 2-in-1 (gross. *screams in LGBTQ*) shampoo and conditioner next to him and started to clean me off. He tilted my head back, using the cup to get my hair wet and then putting soap in my hair, massaging my scalp gently. I closed my eyes, humming somewhat happily as he massaged the soap into my hair.

He went on to my body, gently scrubbing off all the dried blood and dirt, making sure the cuts were clean so I wouldn’t get an infection. Once I was clean enough, he unplugged the water and helped me out of the tub, wrapping me in a towel and drying me off. He handed me clothes and then carried me back into the concrete room, setting me on the bed.

“I’m going to get you some water now, little one. I’ll let you take a nap before I wake you up for dinner. You just need some water first.” And with that, he left again. I lifted the hem of the shirt, inspecting myself. He had carved “WW” into my pelvic area, other small cuts littering my skin around it. I started playing with the material of the shirt, leaning back against the wall and waiting patiently. I started dissociating, slipping into blankness with ease but snapping back into reality when the door opened. I bowed my head out of respect, waiting for the order to look up or to keep my head down.

_Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._

Master sat on the edge of the bed, holding the water out to me. “You can look around, little one. Drink.” I took the water and drained it, handing the empty bottle back. His hand pet my damp hair, playing with the long strands. I never used to let it get this long. My bangs fell into my face, covering my eyes. I brought my hand up tentatively, brushing my bangs out of my face and peering up at Master.

He gave me a soft smile. I returned it with a shy smile, looking down at my hands and playing with the hem of the t-shirt. He stood. “Take a nap, pet. You need your strength.” He left, letting me do just that. I readjusted, laying my head against the flat pillow and curling up, closing my eyes and falling into a deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Reese gets raped again. Webb cuts Reese during the assault and carves his initials into him. Reese's mind starts splitting more and he talks internally to his alter (his name is Benjamin, btw) and you see the Stockholm get worse (he starts mentally and verbally calling Webb master, trying to lessen the depth of the situation, etc). 
> 
> LMK what you think, and as always, thanks for reading :)   
> BTW, I think y’all are gonna like Benjamin. He comes out to play in the next one. Also, the torture bits end in the next chapter and I promise your going to want to stick around for it.


	6. Split Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I could feel the tension inside straining to the point it was about to snap. Benjamin was not as forgiving or as nice as I was. Benjamin was a lot more willing to act out on his rage. Benjamin was… everything I was not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: rape, blood, stabbing, violence, sexual slavery, etc. 
> 
> BAMF REESE BAMF REESE BAMF REESE! THIS IS IT! THE TORTURE ENDS HERE! THIS IS THE ONE WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! 
> 
> Please sit back and enjoy chapter 6, everyone :)

“I would rather die a meaningful death than to live a meaningless life.”  
-Corazon Aquino

* * *

I lay on the bed facing the wall, curled up in a tight ball. My eyes were open although the concrete room was somewhat dark. Not pitch black. I could still see some light through the small windows at the top of the wall, the sun sinking below the horizon and the sky turning a pale purple. My fingers played with the soft cotton hem of the long sleeve I was wearing absent-mindedly. I stared at the gray wall, memorizing the texture with ease. I closed my eyes, zoning out. It had probably been months since I had been outside this small room, but I wasn’t complaining. Master was good to me. He always gave me food when I earned it. Used me and paid attention to me when I was in his presence. He always let me wear his shirts and let me talk to him while he gave me aftercare.

**_You are one stupid dude, you know that? We both know what he’s doing isn’t aftercare. It’s giving you water after he rapes you so we don’t fucking die. C’mon Reese. I am DYING to be let out here. Please? Just once? PLEASE?_ **

_No, Benjamin. Go away. It is aftercare. He is caring for me after he fucks me. It’s nice. Master is good to me._

_**Dude, for the THOUSANDTH time. His name is Webb. Am I the only one in this thing that understands that? Jesus, kid. You’re killing me.** _

_It’s not my fault you decided to live here. I don’t even want to live inside here. You chose me. Not the other way around, Benjamin. Stop bitching at me._

**_I’ll bitch at you as long as I want, dickhead. But seriously. Let me have one round with him. Please. I just want to have a bit of fun. I won’t break the rules. I promise. PLEASE._ **

_No. You’re going to get us in trouble. Just shut up and leave me be. Find something else to do. Dissociate like I do. I don’t care. Just stop talking to me before you get me in trouble._

**_But you’re the only one I get to talk to. It’s not my fault you won’t let me out. And it isn’t my fault when I come out once he finally does something that breaks you. We know it won’t be pretty. Just let me have a few minutes of fun before that happens. Please, please, please, please. I’m begging you._ **

_No. Go away, Benjamin._

I often found myself talking to Benjamin. I didn’t know when he had really come about. I always thought he was just a voice in my head. But as that dark edge continued to build inside me, he came out more. He felt more… real. Like he was another person living inside me, constantly talking to me. With a distinct personality, too. He really never shut the fuck up. It was annoying at times. I knew Benjamin had a dark side all his own. Sometimes we talked about it in more depth after a particularly hard session.

Benjamin was always fighting with me, trying to get me to sit in the background while he got to use my damn body for a while. I never let him, though. I always had just enough strength to fight him off. To keep him at bay. To lock him up in my mind and fight the strain that threatened to snap at any moment’s notice. A few months ago, I never knew what this dark thing inside me was. I knew now. It had developed into Benjamin. A completely different person who lived inside me. But I wouldn’t let him out. He would get us killed. Can’t risk that.

**_You wouldn’t be risking anything, though! I would behave… maybe. But still! I just want to get some air. Have a little while to walk around. You get to use our body all the time. Just let me have a few minutes. Please._ **

_Benjamin, I know better. You would make Master upset. He doesn’t deserve to be upset. He’s a good owner. A good caretaker. You would piss him off. I’m not getting punished because of you._

**_God lord, kid. Listen to yourself. You aren’t a god damn animal or some object. You’re a person. And he isn’t a good man. He rapes you in a basement every night and tortures you for fun._ **

_No. Not true. It simply cannot be true. I’m lesser. Less. Less. I’m here to be used. That’s my purpose. To serve and follow orders. Shut up, Benjamin. Please just shut up. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you’re given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you’re given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you’re given._

**_UGHHHH. Not that AGAIN. Please. Make it stop, someone. He’s going to kill me._ **

_Follow orders. Be grateful for what you’re given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you’re given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you’re given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you’re given._

**_The second I manage to get control over us, I’m going to slap the fuck out of you. Just sayin’._ **

_You do know that you would also be slapping yourself, right? And either way, that’s never going to happen. You will not be coming out. Ever._

**_Yeah, I will. One day you WILL snap. Don’t you remember that from your degree or whatever?_ **

_Yes, Benjamin. I remember learning things from my degree. Now fuck off. Please. You’re driving me crazy._

**_Whatever you say, bitch boy._ **

_Don’t call me that._

**_Or what? You’ll break? I’m shaking._ **

_Just fuck off. I get it. You’re a little bitch. Just shut up already._

**_Oh, that’s new. You’ve never called me a bitch before. You’ll regret that one day._ **

_I don’t doubt that. Now let me go to sleep. I’m sleepy._

**_Whatever. Night, kid._ **

_Night, Benjamin. Thanks for talking with me._

**_No problem. Always have to be there for my other identity._ **

* * *

The hard concrete dug into my knees and shins, the dull pain I was used to nagging at me. After how many days, weeks, and possible months I had been in here, I got used to ignoring pain. The only time I didn’t was in the process of receiving it. If Master was hurting me then I accepted it, screaming and pleading and begging and crying for it to stop. After I simply ignored it. Dissociated until some of it went away. Sometimes I would get drugged to deal with it. I couldn’t tell if the drugs were being used as an escape or a reward or as a punishment. I didn’t understand the motive behind it. But I never fought it. Not like I used to. There was no point in fighting it. And it was against the rules. It was disobedient. And there was always punishment for disobedience. Always.

I just stared blankly at the concrete, my thoughts in the recesses of my mind as time slipped by with ease. This is how my days went. Day in and day out. Wake up, let Master use my mouth, eat, hydrate, kneel, let Master use me, eat, hydrate, sleep. Day in and day out. Time didn’t really matter anymore. Nothing really mattered anymore. Nothing had mattered to begin with. I never mattered to begin with. Sometimes I found myself talking to Benjamin and reminiscing on past memories. Both the beautiful and the ugly. Mostly the ugly. The memories that left me scarred and lost and broken beyond repair.

I thought about my childhood and how it influenced my life to this point. Sometimes it felt like I wasn’t living. Like I was stuck in my head. Like at any moment I was going to wake up in a completely different reality and what I lived was all just a terrible dream that lasted a little too long.

“Little one. Eyes up.”

My eyes snapped up as I was driven out of my dissociative state, my brain refocusing on the man entering the room and coming to stand in front of me. My eyes followed Master’s deep brown eyes, a smirk on his face as he let another man enter the room. Master walked around me, standing behind me and petting my hair. He had let someone cut it back down a few weeks ago. He didn’t like it overly long. The other man closed the door, walking to where he was a few feet in front of me, looking at me intently. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking away from my face and up to look at Master.

“He’s quite a beauty. Trained?” the man asked, taking a few steps forward to look at me more closely.

Master’s deep voice answered from behind me, his hand still in my hair. “Yes. Very obedient, too. Didn’t take me very long to train him. He had previous training when he got to me.”

I didn’t like the way the two were talking. I had worked plenty of cases like this. I knew what this could possibly be. _Human trafficking._

The man stepped all the way to me, squatting in front of me and looking me in the face with a sweet smile on his face. “Hello, little one,” he greeted softly, as though he didn’t want to scare me in anyway. It was odd. People who came in here to see me usually LIKED scaring me.

“Hello, sir. How are you?” I whispered, meeting the man’s eyes and holding eye contact. I felt my heart hammering in my chest, wondering when this was going to go wrong.

The man looked up, ignoring my question. “Can I touch?” There wasn’t a verbal reply, but I assumed it was ok as the man reached out to cup my face in his hand. He smiled again sweetly. “I’m very well, thank you. How are you?” he asked back, his fingers running down to the column of my throat and to my collar.

I swallowed, unsure of what to say. “I-I’m well, sir. Thank you,” I whispered again, bracing myself for possible backlash if that wasn’t the right answer.

The man stood, backing up a step and addressing Master. “How much for him? I know he’s the only one you have at the moment and your favorite of all the one’s you’ve had, but he has a price. I know you wanted 10 last time I spoke with you,” the man murmured, his tone becoming business like.

_**See? Told you it could get worse. Now you’ll have to let me out.** _

_What? No. No, he won’t sell me. And even if he did it wouldn’t matter. I’m property. That’s how this works. I’m less. Less. Go away, Benjamin. Go away._

“Go over to the bed and sit down little one,” Master commanded, his hand falling out of my hair. I followed the command obediently, sitting on the bed with my back against the wall. Master followed, sitting on the bed and then doing something he had never done before. He patted his thigh. I didn’t know if he wanted me in his lap or over it. “Sit on my lap, pet. Master wants to hold you while he talks business.” I climbed into his lap, my arms coming around his torso cautiously. When I didn’t get reprimanded for doing it, I clung on a little tighter, cuddling up against him. He hummed happily before pausing. “Actually… get up, little one.”

I climbed back off his lap, kneeling in front of him as I waited for him to give me another command. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, freeing his cock and stroking it until he got hard. “Now back in master’s lap, little one. Warm my cock while master talks business with his friend,” he instructed. I did so shakily, lowering onto his cock and then resuming my position, resting my head on his shoulder while he stroked the back of my head. I didn’t pay attention to their conversation, too scared to think about the possible impending realities. I didn’t want to ruin the small amount of comfort I had gained by getting to sit in his lap and simply be pet.

He shifted, a sharp breath leaving my throat as he stroked over something accidently. Sweet spot. It seemed to garner his attention. “Oh? Did I hit something sensitive, pet? If you get hard, don’t cum. Slaves like you don’t deserve to cum, little one. Understand?” he asked mockingly, pushing up into me again to rub my sweet spot.

“Ye—ah… yes master,” I replied, shuddering with pleasure. I hadn’t gotten off in a long time. Not since the last time Aaron and I had…

_Don’t go there. He isn’t a part of your life now. He doesn’t miss you, so you shouldn’t miss him. Be loyal to Master. He owns you, not Aaron Hotchner._

**_Ahhh come on! We liked Aaron. He was nicer. Way nicer. Actually asked for consent and didn’t count simply keeping you alive as aftercare. If he came bursting through this door right now, we both know you would fall to your knees in front of him and call him daddy._ **

_Shut up, Benjamin._

**_What? I’m just being honest._ **

_Maybe… no. No! Stop. Stop being disloyal. Master has treated you well. Better than you deserve. Stop it, Reese! Stop it!_

**_There it is… finally having second thoughts. Admit it. You would trade a lot of things to spend one more day with Aaron._ **

_I… I don’t know. Actually, I do. The answer is yes. No! Stop it! Benjamin, stop!_

**_HA! He’s still stuck in your head, kid. You still love him._ **

_Nope._

**_Yes, you do. I’m so using that to my advantage._ **

_No I don’t. I do not. That would be dis-_

**_Disobedient. Yes. I know. Not that it matters. Who’s going to listen to you talk to your old love life in here? Webb? He’d kill you if he knew. But you can admit you still love Aaron. It’s fine as long as you don’t admit it out loud._ **

_For once, you might be right. I do love Aaron. I doubt he loves me though. I really fucked up before all this._

**_If we ever see him again, let him know. I’ll be happy to meet him and possibly speak on your dumbass behalf._ **

_Shut up._

**_Never. You know you love me._ **

_Yeah right._

By the time I had gotten back out of my thoughts, Master and the other man had nearly finished talking. I least I assumed so.

“I need a higher price for this one. He’s…special. There’s something about him. He’s the best one I’ve ever had on top of that. I need at least 10 more since last we talked. He’s become more obedient since then, thus the increase in price.”

The man sighed behind me, frustrated. “I’ll do five additional. Meet me in the middle, Webb. I can’t go much higher. You’ll be getting extra for the extra time spent training him, but I won’t break my budget. How’s that?”

Master just hummed, his thumb stroking the back of my hair as he thought. I hummed back, content with his gentleness in this moment. Sometimes he really was good to me. “No. I need 10 more or nothing. I’ll give you a week to decide, but no deal as of today. I’ll call you to set up another meeting, same time next week,” Master said calmly, controlling the conversation with ease.

“Alright. Give me a week. I need to budget this out, but I do want him. He seems better suited to my needs than the last one,” the man murmured.

Master pulled my head back, making me look at him in the eyes as he spoke. “Tell Miles goodbye, little one.”

I turned my head around, my face somewhat flushed from where my body was reacting to being edged sexually. “Bye, sir. Have a good day,” I said quietly, giving innocent eyes to the man. He smiled, waving and then taking his exit, effectively showing himself out.

Master smiled as I turned my head back around to look at him. He cupped my face in his hand, stroking his thumb over my cheek, cocking his head to the side as he thought. “I know this meeting worried you as it pertained to you, but don’t fret, little one. Master isn’t actually planning on selling you to another man. I didn’t work this hard to get rid of you for the money. I can always train another and still have you,” he murmured. I nuzzled my face into hand, trying not to look too relieved. I didn’t know if being sold would be worse or not. I didn’t want to find out.

“Thank you, master,” I whispered, looking at him earnestly.

He gave me a toothy grin, pushing up into me again and making me keen softly. I bit my lower lip, trying to contain myself before I moaned any more. I didn’t want him to get upset. He leaned in, whispering in my ear, “don’t cum.” He fucked up into me harder and faster, chasing his own orgasm as I struggled to contain my own. By the time he came, I was desperate and leaking, tears of pent up sexual frustration pooling in my eyes. He pulled out, making me whimper and look at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled. “Oh no, little one. Don’t even try. You don’t deserve to cum. Property doesn’t get to cum. Be thankful that Master even used your tight little hole, little one. Be grateful for what you are given,” he lectured, wrapping one of his hands around my throat and squeezing.

I nodded, taking in the euphoric feeling of lack of blood flow. He usually choked me with his belt, cutting off my actual breathing. This was different. It wasn’t actually going to possibly kill me. I could already feel his semen dripping out of me as he continued to squeeze my throat. “Does my pet like it when Master chokes him?” he asked tauntingly, smirking at me arrogantly. I nodded the best I could, getting to the point where the room was starting to spin a bit. He let off, letting me breathe again.

He picked me up, laying me back on the bed gently. I watched as he tucked himself back into his pants. “Sleep, little one. And don’t you dare get yourself off. There will be severe consequences should you disobey me.” I nodded, curling up into a tight ball and shutting my eyes.

* * *

Today had not been a good day. Not at all. Master was in a terrible mood. Worse than normal. I didn’t know why. I never found out why, but that was beside the point. He had already fucked my throat violently. More violently than normal. And it had made me unbelievably angry. I could feel the tension inside straining to the point it was about to snap. Benjamin was not as forgiving or as nice as I was. Benjamin was a lot more willing to act out on his rage. Benjamin was… everything I was not.

I kneeled, trying to quell my anger but failed. I was near breaking point, vibrating with rage as I tried to dissociate again and again. It didn’t work. It wasn’t working.

**_Let me out. Please let me deal with this. I can. We both know I can. Just let me handle this. Please._ **

_No. You’ll get us killed._

**_No I won’t. I’ll free us. I know I can. Please?_ **

_No. Shut the fuck up and sit down._

For hours I kneeled like that, calming myself just enough. I couldn’t get the enraged buzz to stop, though. I could feel the monstrous feelings close to snapping as my identity and personality and mind split in two. The feelings were festering and had turned acidic. Stockholm couldn’t control D.I.D. It could only control one person, not two. And I was becoming two people. One person terrified while the other was enraged and ready to act out on that rage.

The door opened, Master stepping inside with a look of anger on his face. He stopped a few feet in front of me, looking at me as he decided what he wanted. “Bed. Now,” he ordered snappily. For the first time in months, I hesitated, unsure of what to do. He stepped forward, smacking me across the face. Hard. I don’t know what happened until a few minutes later.

* * *

**Benjamin’s POV**

The snap finally happened. Reese had enough and now it was my turn. My turn to have my way with the sicko in front of me, demanding I get on the bed so Reese could be raped. My eyes went cold as I looked up, anger flashing in my irises. “No,” I spat defiantly, anger surging in my chest.

Webb looked pissed stepping back in slight disbelief. “The fuck did you say, bitch?” he asked coldly, venom seeping into his words.

I smirked arrogantly, rising to my feet. “I said **_no_** ,” I emphasized, standing before him in assertion of my resolution. My will was stronger than his. Stronger than Reese’s. That’s why I was here in the first place. I was here to protect Reese from this crazy bastard. And now I had my chance. I just smirked harder when Webb took a switch blade from his pocket.

The snapping of the blade didn’t scare me. I wasn’t backing down from this. I was sadistic. I was the opposite of Reese. In every way his alter. “I’ll give you one more chance to get your ass over the edge of the bed with minimal punishment, little one. Get over there and bend over. Now,” Webb ordered coldly, his own anger rising.

I lifted my hand, flipping him the bird. He lunged forward, trying to catch me off guard. I side stepped, dodging the knife and spinning to face him again. I wanted him to come to me. Play the defense and get in some sneaky offense. He turned, gaining his balance and taking another shot. I side stepped again, putting my hands out and putting the knife into his path, nicking his chest as he stumbled. I laughed, the sound rough and dark.

**_You better kill the bastard. [A/N In Benjamin’s POV, the bold italics are Reese speaking to Benjamin]_ **

_I will, kid. I’m getting revenge for you._

**_Thank god._ **

Webb tried again, watching my movements and predicting where I would go. I caught his hand, pushing the knife up and then bringing my leg up, kicking him in the knee. He groaned, recoiling as I disengaged. I tried to make another offensive move but overstepped, the knife sinking into my chest. I could feel the adrenaline pumping in my veins, the pain subsiding quickly as I stepped back and waited, ignored the wound entirely. Survival came first, pain second. He gained more ground, but I blocked as he made another attempt to stab at me, my palm connecting with his nose. He came back, landing another stab but quickly losing that battle. I grabbed his wrist and twisted after he pulled the knife out, enjoying his screams and then landing a knee to his groin. He went down, his grip on the blade loosening.

I took that with pleasure. I ripped it from his hands, flipping it to face him and then stabbing. It slid inside his abdomen like a knife through softened butter. I pulled back, stabbing again and again, that dark feeling of carnal pleasure at his suffering spurring me on. He fell back, laying on the floor bleeding profusely and struggling to breathe. I kicked at him, landing a critical hit to his jaw and another and another. I let all of Reese’s pent up rage out. It felt good. So good. Too good.

I bent down, driving the knife into him again and again as the life drained from his body. Then finally I stood, victorious. The knife slipped from my hands, clattering against the concrete floor. Then Reese took back over, the fight leaving me.

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

When I fell to my knees, Master’s dead body was next to me. Fuck that. I was bleeding and losing blood fast. My hands were trembling, my breathing heavy and quick. Sweat beaded my forehead, something lifting from me. I went to Webb’s body as the Stockholm seemed to break for a moment, the need to do something before I inevitably bled out on the concrete. I dug into his pockets, letting out a joyous sigh as I pulled out a smart phone.

I hit the power button, happy to find that it had service. I dialed the first number I could think of, begging someone picked up.

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” Spencer said expectantly. He clearly hadn’t been paying attention to the number or he was using his office phone. Probably his office phone. I had called the first office number I could think of. I had memorized them my first week in the Unit.

I breathed heavily, croaking as I said, “Spe-Spencer.”

There was the subtle hiss of breath on the other end, indicting he had paused his work. “REESE!? IS THAT YOU? PLEASE TELL ME IT’S YOU,” he begged in shock, excited I was still alive. Barely, anyway.

I smiled as I took in a pained breath. “Y-Yeah, it’s me. I need you to get Aaron and PG for me,” I requested raggedly.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course!” Spencer said, his voice fading as he screamed for Hotch and for Derek to go get Garcia. There were loud footsteps and then someone else was on the phone and talking to Reid.

“Reese?” Aaron asked anxiously, praying I was really on the other end of the line, no doubt.

“Hi, Aaron. Long time, no see, huh?” I joked half-heartedly, wincing in pain as I took in another breath.

I heard a frantic Garcia and then I was being put on speaker so everyone could talk and listen at the same time. “MINI BOY WONDER! Where are you!? Are you alright!??” Garcia asked in a frantic panic.

I shook my head, gripping my bleeding abdomen and groaning in pain. “I… I need you to find where I am if you can. Not… not gonna last much longer,” I breathed, fighting the abyss. Fighting death. At least for a few more minutes.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked nervously, panicking himself.

“Shut up and listen, Aaron Hotchner,” I scolded, the jaded clouds floating away as I made what would more than likely be my dying declaration.

“I’m listening. I’m listening.”

“Good,” I began, taking a deep breath and then starting, “look… I am so sorry for how things ended in your office. I shouldn’t have been drinking. I should have come to you. I broke your trust… and that- that was wrong of me. And I’m sorry.”

“Reese—”

“Shut up. I want you to know that I’m not mad at you. Even like this I can’t stay mad. I can never stay mad at you,” I said honestly, struggling to keep myself awake.

I could hear him struggling not to cry on the other side of the line. “Garcia, tell me you’ve got his location.”

“I need another minute, sir, I’m sorry. Almost got it,” Penelope said anxiously, the clicking of her keyboard more evident.

“Aaron, listen,” I demanded weakly.

“YES! What is it?” he asked, his voice cracking.

I felt tears stinging my eyes, my throat tightening. “Aaron, I love you, alright? I fucking love you. I will always love you. I need you to know that,” I declared confidently, not paying any mind to the small gasps from the rest of the team.

“Garcia?”

“I’ve got him! I’m sending medical and agents to his location now!”

“Reese, baby, I need you to stay on the line and try and stay awake. What happened?” he asked in a panic, his own anxiety seizing him.

“I… I fought the unsub. Killed the bastard. But I don’t want to talk about that. I still have shit to—fuck--- to say,” I said, cutting them all off before another word could be said, “I need you to tell Jack that I love him and that I’m proud of him. That everyday I woke up and thought about how much I loved him and how much I loved you. And I need you to understand that this isn’t your fault. It never was.”

I could feel his anguish. He didn’t like being helpless like this. “I love you too, Reese. But you need to stay with me, understand?” he ordered, although it was desperate. Pleading. He was begging me to stay alive.

“Love you, bello,” I mumbled, fighting to stay with them. To buy a few more minutes. Without thinking I started rambling in French. “Si je meurs, tu ferais mieux de me trouver dans l’apres-vie et de me donner une fessee pour etre un sale (if I die, you better find me in the afterlife and spank me for being a brat),” I mumbled jokingly, me eyes fluttering open and closed.

He let out a strained chuckle, stress exuding from him and over the phone. “Reste avec moi, s’il te plait. Je t’aime trop pour te perdre. Je t’aime mon bebe. Tant que ca. (Please stay with me. I love you too much to lose you. I love you, baby boy. So much),” Aaron said, a broken sob escaping him as he fought to keep himself together.

“Love you… love you so… so much, Aaron,” I trailed off, my eyes closing as I heard the wailing of sirens and drifting into the blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! LMK what you think! 
> 
> Here's some songs that describe Benjamin, btw:  
> Play with Fire - Sam Tinnesz  
> Put it on Me - Matt Maeson  
> River (King Kavalier Remix) - Bishop Briggs  
> Prisoner - Raphael Lake  
> Sucker for Pain - Lil Wayne, Logic, X Ambassadors, Ty Dolla Sign
> 
> Benjamin is the darker side of Reese who is essentially more arrogant, dominant, and well... you'll see. ;)


	7. Cause For Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He kept his eyes up and forward, staring at the ceiling with that blank look on his face. He was alive but he wasn’t there. Lights were on, but no one was inside. More like the person inside was hiding from the rest of the world. He was more than likely terrified out of his mind and in shock."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: talk of rape, talk of abuse, etc.
> 
> I'm sorry if the hospital chapters suck, I'm not good at portraying physical medical problems. 
> 
> Happy reading

“All things are subject to interpretation whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.”  
-Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

“HOTCH!” Reid screamed, drawing my attention away from the paperwork on my desk. I jumped up, moving to my doorway and then rushing into the bullpen before Reid could even get another word out. “It’s Reese. He’s alive,” Reid explained, handing me the phone.

I snatched the receiver, anxiety radiating inside me as a sick feeling settled in my gut. I had been in a situation like this before. It hadn’t ended well. “Reese?” I asked nervously, praying that he actually was alive on the other end. Garcia came rushing in through the glass doors, Morgan right behind her.

“Hi, Aaron. Long time, no see?” Reese croaked, trying to make an attempt at a joke. I heard him wince in pain, his breathing ragged on the other end of the line. I put the phone down and put it on speaker, letting everyone hear what was going on. Reid had gone to get JJ and they were making their way over to us all.

“MINI BOY WONDER!” Garcia exclaimed, panic rising in her tone, “Where are you? Are you alright?”

He took in a breath before answer, stumbling over his words a bit. “I… I need you to find where I am if you can. Not… not gonna last much longer.”

That made me even more nervous. Even more sickened. “What do you mean?” I asked in a rush, panic lacing every word. The tension in the bullpen was palpable, everyone strung taut and crossing their fingers for a good outcome.

“Shut up and listen, Aaron Hotchner,” Reese reprimanded vehemently.

“I’m listening. I’m listening,” I said, hanging onto every word. _This cannot be happening. Not like this. Not again. Dear fucking god, Hotchner. Not again._

“Good,” he breathed, trying to calm himself it seemed, “look… I am so sorry for how things ended in your office. I shouldn’t have been drinking. I should have come to you. I broke your trust… and that… that was wrong of me. And I’m sorry.”

I tried to interject, “Reese—” but was immediately cut off again.

“Shut up. I want you to know I’m not mad at you. Even like this I can’t stay mad. I can never stay mad at you,” Reese said, wincing as he took in another breath. He was hurting. He was hurt. In pain and more than likely dying somewhere.

I was trying my hardest to hold it together, looking over to where Garcia was typing away and triangulating, trying to pinpoint his location and send him some sort of help. “Garcia tell me you’ve got his location,” I said, trying not to sound like I was pleading. I was pleading. Pleading with Reese to stay alive.

She looked up at me for second and then returned to her work, typing quickly. “I need another minute, sir, I’m sorry. Almost got it.”

“Aaron, listen.”

“YES! What is it?” I asked, panicked demand rattling off my words and dying as they left my mouth.

“Aaron, I love you, alright? I fucking love you. I will always love you. I need you to know that,” he declared, his voice as confident as he could muster when he was trying to hold back tears. JJ and Prentiss gasped, taken aback by the entire declaration. The team didn’t know. Still didn’t know.

“Garcia?” I asked, my voice straining as I struggled to contain my emotions.

“I’ve got him! I’m sending medical and agents to his location now!” Garcia announced in nervous rush.

I turned my attention back to Reese who sounded like he was struggling on the other end of the line. He was trying to keep himself alive and was slowing losing the battle. The next words out of my mouth could get me fired, but honestly, I didn’t care. I could get another job. I couldn’t replace an entire human being. “Reese, baby, I need you to stay on the line and try and stay awake. What happened?” I asked, anxiety rising inside me.

“I… I fought and killed the unsub. Killed the bastard. But I don’t want to talk about that. I still have shit to—fuck—to say.” I opened my mouth, but he kept going, so I closed my mouth. _Not like this. Please, not like this. Do not die. Do not fucking die. Please. This can’t be happening again. Not again._

“I need you to tell Jack that I love him and that I’m proud of him. That everyday I woke up and thought about how much I loved him and how much I loved you. And I need you to understand that this isn’t you fault. It never was.”

I lost all professionalism in that moment. I didn’t care who was listening. Who was watching. I didn’t care. “I love you too, Reese, but I need you to stay with me, understand?” I pleaded, trying to get him to hold out a little bit longer. Everyone in the room was silent, tears rolling down the other’s faces. Even Morgan was trying not to cry.

“Love you, bello,” he mumbled, not doubt a smile in his voice as he said, “Si je meurs, tu ferais mieux do me trouver dans l’apres-vie et de me donner une fessee pour etre un sale.”

The laugh I gave was strained and filled with sorrow. “Reste avec moi, s’il te plait. Je t’aime trop pour te perdre. Je t’aime mon bebe. Tant que ca,” I said, a cry finally breaking free as I lost myself to the overwhelming amount of emotion inside me. A warm tear slid down my cheek, my brain still fighting to try and remain put together.

“Love you… love you so… so much, Aaron,” Reese said, trailing off. I could hear the sirens in the background, indicating that he almost had help, but he was dying too fast. Losing the battle to death, too fast.

I turned to JJ. “How fast can we get to… Garcia where the hell is he?” I asked, a bite of anger in my voice. I was angry at myself more than anyone else. I had let this happen for a second time. A second time. First Haley, now Reese. I had listened to someone I loved die on the other end of a phone line, twice.

“Portland, Maine. Flight would take an hour and a half, sir,” Garcia responded, tears streaking down her face before she nearly broke down.

“Way ahead of you, Hotch. The jet will be ready in about 15 minutes. Emergency flight,” JJ said, biting her nails as she struggled to keep herself together. Everyone was in shock. Everyone was. I could hear the EMTs on the other side of the line, moving into the room and rushing to tend to Reese and the unsub who was already dead.

“Wheels up in 30. I need to get his papers as his POA. We don’t touch a single case until this is sorted. I don’t give a damn about protocol or what the Bureau wants. If it comes down on us, I’ll take the blame,” I announced, rushing up the stairs to my office before I lost it any further. I shut the door, collapsing in my desk and chair and fumbling with my desk drawers. I bit my lower lip, resisting the urge to yell out of anger and anguish and brokenness. I needed to be strong for my team. For Reese. I needed to keep it together. I was going to keep it together.

I sorted through the files until I found the one for being his POA, grabbing it on tossing it on my desk. I grabbed my go bag and set it on the desk as well. I pulled my phone out, dialing Jessica to tell her what was going on.

“Jessica, it’s Aaron. I have something urgent to take care of in Portland, Maine. It might take a few days as it’s case related. Can you watch Jack?” I said before she could even greet me.

“Yeah, of course I can. Just make it back safe, alright?”

“I will. Thank you. Bye.”

I took in a deep breath as I tried to get my bearings. The rest of the time getting to the airstrip was a blur, emotions blinding me as I tried to calm my panic. The flight to Maine lasted what felt like an eternity, everyone quiet or forcing calm.

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

My eyes blinked open, bright light shining directly in my face. I turned away, closing my eyes and then opening them again slowly. I let out a deep breath, trying to figure out where I was. I could hear something going on around me, rattling and footsteps and murmurs as two people spoke to one another. I opened my eyes and tried to keep them open, taking in the view in front of me. I was in a small hospital room, a nurse and a doctor doing something around me. My eyes widened and I felt my pulse begin to get faster, evident from the alarmed beeping on one of the monitors. The other two people in the room looked back at me, moving to the bedside to speak with me.

The doctor smiled down at me. “There you are. You’ve had a long few hours, Mr. Benson. Just rest for right now,” he ordered calmly, looking to the nurse as my heartrate went back down to normal.

_Hospital. I’m in a hospital._

I suddenly became aware of the pain in my abdomen and how tired I felt. I felt exhausted, actually. I closed my eyes, not trying to battle sleep any longer.

**

I didn’t know how long I had been asleep when I woke up again. The room was dimmer, the overhead lights not as bright when my eyes opened. My entire body was sore and aching, letting me know that I was probably coming off some pain meds and needed another dose. Then it sunk in. Everything sunk in.

_Oh my god. What have I done? Holy shit. We’re in a hospital. In a hospital bed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Master’s going to kill us. We’re going to die. Someone’s going to come back for us. Oh no. Oh no, no, no._

_**Calm down, kid. I kind of took care of Webb, remember? Then you called Aaron and made that whole love declaration thing and then passed out from blood loss? Now we’re in a hospital because we were stabbed. Remember that?** _

_Well yes, but…_

_**But nothing. Anywhere is better than in that bunker or wherever with Webb. Shut up and call a nurse in and figure out what’s going on.** _

I wished it could have been that easy, but it wasn’t. Instinct and habit from the last however long kicked in and simply stayed put, my eyes open but blank and glassy as I dissociated from the current situation, ignoring the pain and stress I was feeling as I tried to protect myself. It was easier to simply let my mind go blank and to fall into nothingness. It made time go faster and saved me the panic. I couldn’t help the panic. I was suddenly supposed to be free… right? I intellectually understood that, but for some reason I couldn’t quite accept it. Accepting it made me panic as it seemed wrong. Freedom seemed wrong, now. How was I supposed to be free? I didn’t deserve freedom.

My eyes stayed open, nothingness taking me over and holding me captive. I was fine with being captured, however. It was the easiest thing to do. Then I couldn’t break the rules. I hated not knowing the rules. It meant everything was unknown. It meant vulnerability. It meant weakness. It meant the opportunity for death. I don’t know how long I stayed like that. I paid no mind to the people that came in and out of the room. I didn’t answer anything I was asked or say anything at all. I didn’t want to risk disobedience. I didn’t want to risk punishment. I just stayed still, keeping myself in a state of stark nothingness, trying to figure out if I was still trapped in a never-ending nightmare, or if I was falling into a lucid dream.

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

I paced back and forth in the waiting area of the emergency room, waiting for a doctor to come out and tell us Reese’s condition. I had already made it clear I was his POA and now I was waiting anxiously for news. All we were told is that he had been stabbed twice and that he was in surgery to repair the damage and stop the bleeding. I was praying it wasn’t too serious or that he would make it through. I wasn’t ready to lose someone else. Not yet. Especially not someone so young. Reese was only twenty-five. _Twenty-five._ He wasn’t supposed to die. It was always painful when young people died. [A/N I know I’ve fucked the timeline but know that Hotch is in like his mid to late thirties. The age gap is NOT huge. Jack is older and Haley is dead simply for the ease of the story. I write the story, so I make the rules.]

No one had come asking questions about the basis of our relationship yet, although I knew they were coming. I knew Morgan was probably upset about it in an older brother type of way. Right now everyone was too stressed about the man being in surgery and possibly dying on the table, though, so it bought me some more time to think about how I wanted to explain it all. Dave already knew of course. He had known since the beginning. I knew the others probably picked up on signs but never had enough to put all the pieces together. And right now, I honestly didn’t care if it would cost me my job or hurt my career. I could always go back to prosecuting. Right now, all I cared about was Reese coming out ok. The less physical injury and the better. Mental recovery was always a big enough battle.

The last time it had gone better than I had hoped. He had settled into his normal life and moved past the trauma quickly. It was because he felt secure before it had happened and understood he had people to rely on. Now he had been gone five—almost six—months and was in a state of emotional disarray when he had been taken. That would make the process more difficult. He would have to build his trust in other people again. It would be a miracle if he didn’t develop Stockholm. It would be a miracle if Stockholm was the only thing he had developed. PTSD was definitely going to have an onset and the possibility of other disorders was also quite high.

I stopped pacing for a moment, looking at the others in the waiting room. Reid was sitting in a chair, his elbows on his knees, tapping his foot restlessly. Morgan was leaning against a wall, trying to calm Garcia down and keep his anger and anxiety at bay. JJ and Prentiss were sitting next to each other, talking to one another, their hands and fingers interlaced. Dave was sitting away from everyone else, one leg crossed over the other, thinking about god knows what. I approached Dave, taking a seat next to him but not saying a word.

“How are you holding up, Aaron?” Dave asked, wearing impassivity like a shield. He often did in situations like this. I understood the need to do so. I did it often.

I bit my bottom lip, trying to compose my answer. “I’m angry at myself. The one thing I promised him was safety and protection and that I would catch the unsub and I couldn’t keep my promise. I couldn’t keep him safe, Dave. This is the second person who has become a victim to my job. He might live but he’ll never be the same. Christ, he was kidnapped and then managed to take the unsub down himself after five months,” I rambled, quiet anger emerging from the background of my mind, taking a stand at center stage.

Dave simply nodded, staying silent for a few moments. “Reese put himself in the line of fire when he took this job. He understood the dangers. What happened is no one’s fault, Aaron. Not yours. Not his. Not mine. This is Webb’s fault. But you can still save Reese, Aaron. There is still time. You just have to show him that you aren’t going to leave him. That you will always have his back,” Dave explained, taking a position of wisdom from all his years of experience when dealing with loss and chaos from the job.

“I know. I know, Dave. I’m just hoping he will want me there to protect him and have his back. He was pissed when he left the last time… and rightfully so. I had called him weak. Weak. God… what the hell was I thinking?” I said quietly, kicking myself for being so callous towards him instead of being more understanding.

“He’ll forgive you, Aaron. I think he already has. The only thing he wanted to say on that phone call, was how much he loved you. That’s what mattered to him. He’s going to want you to be there for him. It won’t be easy, but if you love him back, you’ll have to accept that,” Dave said, glancing towards the opening doors and watching a surgeon with a clipboard step out into the room. I stood, walking over to meet him as we were the only ones waiting for someone in surgery. In an emergency surgery.

“Reese Benson?” The man asked, looking at us expectantly.

“Yes. That’s us. What’s his condition?” I asked, my body tense and coiled tight with stress.

The man gave us a sympathetic smile as he broke the news. “He is out of surgery and will make a full recovery. The knife nicked an artery and it was somewhat concerning for a while, but we managed to repair the damage. Nothing vital was hit. He’ll be in a lot of pain for the next few weeks, but we’ve got him on some pain medication. He’s currently asleep in his room. You can see him when he’s actually up after the anesthesia wears off. We also ran a rape kit at the discretion of the EMTs who gave us a heads up… there was a lot of scarring and some minimal tearing, which is quite surprising. We had to make a few minor repairs but for the most part those tears will heal naturally, and he’ll be fine… physically, at least. He’s also got a lot of physical scars from a multitude of things. Burns, cuts, bruises, track marks. Just letting you know that this will be a long recovery for him. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

With that he turned and walked back through the doors, going about his job. I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding, visibly relaxing a bit. That was a small sign of hope. He was going to be alright physically. The damage wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“I need coffee,” Reid announced, scrubbing at his face. He looked at everyone, waiting for someone else to tag along.

“I think I need some as well,” I announced, following Reid out and down the hall to find a coffee machine and cheap complimentary coffee. I didn’t think coffee would actually help in anyway, given I was already restless, but I just needed to do something that wasn’t sitting in that lobby waiting for Reese to wake up.

“So… how long have you two been like… a thing?” Reid asked awkwardly.

I decided I would answer the questions I was asked, but not give anymore than that. It was only fair considering how much it could impact the team. “Since our case in Knoxville,” I replied. Reid nodded, thinking about what he wanted to ask next. He obviously didn’t know what to ask because he simply stayed silent until we found a coffee machine. Reid took his with a ridiculous amount of sugar in it. The walk back was equally as silent, everyone still somewhat tense. We had no idea how Reese would react to us. He had been gone for 5 months. That made this somewhat unpredictable. We didn’t know what to expect. We were here as his family more than we were here to close a case out.

I sat down in a chair away from the others, zoning out and taking the occasional sip of coffee. I was really trying to reason with myself. Trying to make my guilt lessen. It wasn’t working. I didn’t know if I would ever stop being guilty over this. Rationalizing things like this wasn’t something I had to do often, and I hated that I had to now. Hours went by and we just sat there, waiting for Reese to finally wake up so we could see him.

“Reese Benson?” A nurse asked, snapping everyone back into reality.

“Yes?” I asked.

“He’s awake, although he seems a bit dazed. Be gentle and we should be ok,” she explained, leading us back to where he was. We looked through the glass doors, looking at the man who was laying on the bed. Reese didn’t look like himself. From what little I could see, he was covered in scars and bruises, his eyes were open, but they were distant and glassy. There was bruising all around his exposed neck, all different colors from the different stages of healing. He was paler and thinner, and he looked so… broken. Anger surged up like a tidal wave yet again as I continued to kick myself for being such an idiot.

We stepped into the room quietly, trying not to scare him in anyway although he didn’t seem to notice us. That was concerning. Reid noticed, pointing it out to the rest of us. “He might be in a state of dissociation. He could go into a mental break,” Reid said quietly, concern etched onto his face.

“He might already be in a mental break…” Prentiss said sadly, watching from the back of the room, “someone try and get his attention. See if he’ll talk.” I looked to JJ and Reid, knowing they would be the best options as to not scare him. They were gentler personalities.

JJ and Reid moved to the bedside. JJ started, taking the lead as opposed to Reid. “Hey Reese… it’s JJ. Remember me? We worked together. Spence is here, too,” JJ said softly, giving him a small wave. He didn’t respond or look at her. He kept his eyes up and forward, staring at the ceiling with that blank look on his face. He was alive but he wasn’t there. Lights were on, but no one was inside. More like the person inside was hiding from the rest of the world. He was more than likely terrified out of his mind and in shock.

Reid tried this time, trying to prompt any sort of response. “Reese… it’s Spencer. You know? The person everyone thinks you are a smaller version of? Your best friend?” Reid asked, cocking his head to the side as he watched for a response. No reply. No movement. Nothing. Reese just continued to stare at the ceiling, blinking on occasion. Reid looked back, a sad expression on his face. “We aren’t going to get anywhere until he comes out of this dissociative state,” Reid explained, almost pained by it. I nodded, slowly ushering everyone out of the room and back into the waiting room.

“When do you think he’ll come out of it?” Morgan asked, his arm around Garcia’s shoulder.

“Probably in a few hours, but if it last any longer than that it will be concerning,” Reid answered, not going into one of his long rants.

“Why would that be bad?” Garcia asked, looking at Reid nervously.

Reid sighed. “It means he could be in a mental break. It also means the possible development of a multitude of trauma disorders, but most likely extreme PTSD and dissociative identity disorder. He will more than likely have Stockholm Syndrome, which isn’t listed in the DSM-5 as a mental disorder but given how long he was held captive he will more than likely develop it,” Reid rambled, looking at the floor as he walked.

“How bad could his PTSD be from how long he was held?” JJ asked, “it was starting to get bad before. Is it possible for it to get worse?”

Reid nodded, “absolutely, although the intensity of symptoms usually varies in intensity over time. One day it can be mild and the next it can be extremely intense. He’ll more than likely have intrusive thoughts such as: nightmares, unwanted memories, emotional or physical reactions to things that he relates to captivity. He will want to avoid anything related to the entire ordeal and will most likely go into deep depressive episodes as well as have changes in behavior in terms of how he reacts to things.”

“What do you mean ‘changes in behavior in terms of how he reacts to things’?” Garcia asked, furrowing her brow.

“Pretty boy means his reactions and behavior will have been impacted. He won’t be the same as he was,” Morgan explained before Reid went into detail.

Reid nodded and then specified, “he’ll get frightened easier, be hypervigilant, partake in self-destructive behaviors, be irritable and aggressive and will often have outbursts of anger, feelings of shame or guilt, difficultly sleeping, and difficulty concentrating.”

“But,” Prentiss interjected, “he can get help and learn to manage it. Different types of psychotherapy are often used and medication can be used to manage some symptoms.”

“And we’ll be here to help him every step of the way,” Dave added.

We sure would be. I wasn’t about to leave him to deal with this on his own. I was going to pick up the slack, for his sake. I was going to prove to him I was there to protect him. I wasn’t going to fail him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idek. hope u enjoyed


	8. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I laid back down, needing to sleep again before I thought about reuniting with my team. I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t know if I would ever really be ready for it. I closed my eyes, letting sleep take me away from the terrifying realities of the world. Of my world."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING! School just ended for the semester and i've been caught up in studying and christmas shopping. 
> 
> 1\. Happy holidays (and my deepest apologies to the Jewish community for the rampant anti-Semitism displayed over Hanukah. You are loved and you are amazing. Stay strong) and merry Christmas!  
> 2\. Sorry if the chapter sucks. It's short (which I don't like) but it's better than nothing.  
> 3\. It was sappy and i will not apologize for that. 
> 
> Happy reading!

“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.”  
-Jane Austen

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

I don’t know how long I stayed in that state; in the state of nothingness, where my mind could find some semblance of safety a blank train of thought. I blinked a few times, looking at my surroundings. The room was different than the one I had been in earlier… or at least I thought it was. It was bigger and had more things in it. There was a TV on the wall and chairs in the room. There was also a small cabinet with a lamp atop it, the light touching a small radius around it. There were two people in the chairs, talking to one another softly. I knew who they were instantly. Dr. Spencer Reid and SSA Aaron Hotchner.

I sat up a bit, trying to make out their features a bit more. Both men noticed, their heads snapping to me in an instant. Aaron looked extremely tired, although his worry took over his tiredness. Spencer looked equal parts anxious, concerned, and somewhat excited. They approached the bedside, looking down at me with soft, gentle eyes. My eyes went from Aaron to Spencer and then back to Aaron.

“Reid, call for a nurse,” Aaron ordered softly, trying not to scare me by being loud and authoritative. He turned his attention to me, although his eyes had never left mine. “Hey, Reese. Do you know where you are?”

I just nodded in response. I didn’t want to break any rules, but it would be a gamble. Some people liked verbal responses while others didn’t.

“Can you tell me where you are?” Aaron asked, looking at me expectantly, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“H-Hospital, si-sir,” I rasped, my voice hoarse and my throat dry.

He nodded, not paying any attention to the nurse and doctor who had entered the room. They rushed over to me, making Spencer back out of the way before he was forced out. Aaron took a few steps back, but he was taller than the nurse, so he could still see me.

The nurse started talking to me, but I didn’t look at her. I kept my eyes on Aaron. He was real. My mind wanted to dive back into dissociation. I shook my head, breaking eye contact as I tried to keep myself in reality. I felt like I was being torn apart and I had only been out of my blank state for a few minutes. I became more aware of the pain in my abdomen and the dull throbbing in my head, the combination of both making my vision blurred and making the room spin a bit. I blinked profusely, my hands coming up to my head as I tried to fight off pain and exhaustion. I finally focused on the nurse, squinting at her as I tried to figure out what the hell she was telling me.

“Mr. Benson? Can you hear me?” she asked, her voice firm and somewhat loud. I nodded, not saying anything in response. She nodded, telling me what to do as she went about checking my vitals and then changing an IV bag. With that, she and the doctor left me alone with the other two men in the room. I swallowed, my eyes locked with Aaron’s deep brown irises. I could feel myself shaking, emotions running high at this moment. I never thought I would get to see him again. I broke eye contact and looked to the other side of the bed, looking at Spencer. I didn’t say anything. I wouldn’t say anything. It was against the rules.

“Reese, look at me,” Aaron ordered softly, my head whipping around to look at him again, “do you know who we are?” I nodded.

“Who am I?”

“Supervisory Special A-Agent A-Aaron Hot-hotchner, sir,” I stuttered, forcing myself to keep my eyes on his.

“And who is that?” he asked, pointing to Reid.

“Doctor S-Spencer Reid, sir.”

He nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief. Then something seemed to hit him out of nowhere, a severe look seizing his features, a familiar hardness re-entering his eyes. “Can you tell me who you are?” he asked, his voice strained and his body tense.

I nodded, answering his question, “Reese Jacob Benson, DOB November 16th, 1996.”

“Thank god,” he muttered, letting out a tense breath. I gave him a puzzled look but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t told I could speak so I wasn’t going to. Spencer started messing with his messenger bag, pulling something out of it. It was a Rubik’s cube and scrambling it and then holding it out to me. I reached out for it cautiously, unsure of what he was doing. Unsure of his intentions.

“Solve it,” Spencer ordered with a nod. I nodded, turning my attention to the cube and starting to solve it, using algorithms to help me. That’s all it really was.

“Why did you ask him to solve a Rubik’s cube?” Aaron asked, just as confused as I was. I kept working, twisting each level until I had nearly solved the thing.

“I want to make sure my friend is still in there and a part of that is intellectual ability. He has an IQ of 182 and I want to make sure he can still work on that level,” Spencer replied, not taking his eyes off me. Within a minute he had the cube back in his hand, completely solved. He mixed it up again, wanting me to use a different algorithm to solve it this time. “Again.” So I did it again. We ended up doing this another 5 times until he was convinced that my intellectual understanding of patterns was still fucking there. I didn’t speak a word as I did it, simply solving the puzzle and handing it back, feeling somewhat agitated each time. I wasn’t stupid, just traumatized. _Huge difference, genius._

“I think he’s still there, Reid. He looks like he wants to slap you,” Aaron commented dryly. I looked over to him, not confirming nor denying that I did or didn’t want to slap Reid. When he offered me the cube again, I glared but took it anyway, not looking at it as I solved the entire thing while glaring at him. He seemed to get the point and didn’t offer it to me again, shoving it back in his bag. I blinked a few times, trying to fight the oncoming exhaustion from both my injuries and the drugs running through my system. “Do you want to go to sleep?” Aaron asked, his lips twitching as he suppressed a smile. I just nodded, my eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Spencer started walking towards the door and Aaron followed. A flicker of panic washed over me before I sunk back into emotionlessness, watching the two men. Aaron turned around after a second, pausing, “do you want us to leave?” I shook my head no, pointing at him and then at the chair.

“Do you want Reid to stay?” I shook my head no. I didn’t need to psychologically analyze Reid. Reid was my best friend and still looked to be my best friend, so no need for him to stick around. Spencer took his exit, closing the door behind him. Aaron walked back over to the chair he had vacated earlier, taking a seat. I shook my head a little, trying to fight off sleep. I stared at him, cocking my head to the side. He smiled, standing and moving himself and the chair closer to the bedside, to the point where we could touch each other. My jaw clenched, nervousness rising to the surface.

He noticed immediately, his eyes softening. “I’m not going to hurt you. If you thought I would, you wouldn’t let me stay in here with you without anyone else around. You need to sleep, though. I promise we’ll have time to talk things out when you’re feeling a bit better,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving mine. I could tell he was studying me, trying to figure out what I was thinking. After a moment I just nodded, shifting around as I tried to get comfortable. After a moment I looked at him, scrubbing at my eyes and then just staring at him. I reached out to touch his face tentatively, pulling back a bit as I tried to decide if it was worth the risk or not. Before I could process further, he took my hand, pressing it to his lips and then to his cheek, smiling at me. My face flushed as I looked away, trying to stifle my own smile.

“I missed you so much,” Aaron admitted, making me turn my head back around to look at him. My facial features gave away my surprise and confusion, prompting him to go into explanation it seemed. “I missed you so fucking much. Every single day was hard without you. I’m so sorry I let this happen to you, Reese. I am so sorry, and I will spend every second of my life trying to make this up to you. I love you.”

I felt tears prick my eyes, my head starting to hurt worse from all the new emotions hitting me at one time. I broke my silence, whispering, “I love you too.”

His smile widened, surprise flashing in his eyes. Then something seemed to click for him. “You’re allowed to speak freely, alright? Nothing’s going to happen if you talk,” he stated, trying to lay out ground rules. He understood. He understood my fear and my process of thinking.

Warm tears flowed down my cheek as I wrestled with what I wanted to say. “I thought I’d never get to see you again,” I whispered, my voice breaking as emotions fought to break free, “I thought you’d hate me. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault and I am so, so sorry, Aaron. I love you so much.”

Something flickered in his eyes, crossing over his features in an instant, going as quickly as it had come. He looked wounded, as though what I said hurt him or broke him in some way. “Why do you think I would hate you? This isn’t your fault at all,” he asked, shocked by my reaction to him. I wasn’t angry nor was I blaming him for this. He didn’t deserve to be blamed for this. Not when it was my fault.

“Yes, it is. This is all my fault. I went out and got drunk and yelled at you over something that was never your fault to begin with… and you were right! What I did was stupid and pathetic and weak, and I am so sorry for putting you through all of this. You deserve to be mad at me. I caused all of this and I’m so sorry. I’ll understand if you don’t want me anymore. I’m sorry,” I rambled, looking away from him out of embarrassment and shame. I felt so ashamed. What I did was pathetic and now I was even more pathetic. Too afraid to speak without fear of repercussion and being treated like a victim. I wasn’t a victim. I deserved what happened to me. It was all I was good for. Being used. Being abused. Being hurt.

He pushed himself closer to me, taking my hand in both of his and holding onto it tightly. “Baby, no. No, no, no. What I said to you was wrong and cruel and inaccurate. What you did was human. You were already struggling, and you shut down and I should have expected that. If anything, _I_ put us all through this. None of this would have happened if I would have kept you near me and would have been more understanding. I am never going to be mad at you over this. Ever. This doesn’t make me want you any less, either. I love you, Reese. So much,” he declared firmly. There were tears in his eyes. He was crying.

_He’s crying. Why is he crying? What did I do? Well, besides all of this. Fuck. I upset him. I shouldn’t have upset him. Good job, idiot. Great fucking job!_

Tears streamed down my face more freely, my brain wrestling itself as it fought to accept his words. Part of me was screaming that I didn’t deserve him, the other part screaming that I was being disloyal to the man I had been stuck with for the last who knows how long. All of it was screaming that I was utterly worthless and should be dead. And I agreed. “I am never going to leave your side. I promise,” he whispered. With my other arm I motioned for him to hug me, although it would hurt. I didn’t have to tell him twice. He stood up, carefully wrapping his arms around me, his head resting on top of mine. I was crying harder now, the cries making my abdomen hurt but I ignored it. We stayed like that for a few minutes, both openly crying until we physically couldn’t cry anymore.

“Can I go to sleep now? ‘M really tired from all the drugs,” I mumbled, my eyelids closing and then fluttering open as I fought sleep.

He pulled away, sitting back down. “Of course you can, baby boy. I’ll be right here the entire time.” I just nodded sleepily, adjusting myself on the bed until I felt comfortable. I pulled the sheets over myself more, curling as best I could under them and clinging to the blankets as though I was going to wake up and I would be back in that nightmarish concrete room again. I closed my eyes, falling asleep to the sound of Aaron’s breathing and quiet humming.

* * *

When I woke up Aaron was still in the chair, sleeping as best he could. It looked really uncomfortable. His neck was bent in a way that it SHOULD NOT be bending. He was probably going to have some sort of crick in his neck. I leaned over, grimacing as pain shot through my side. I tapped him and he jolted awake, his eyes open and alert as he assessed the room and realized there wasn’t an emergency. I straightened, watching him stretch out and wake up. He looked refreshed all things considered. He smiled, sitting up straighter and looking at me. I gave him a shy, sleepy smile, feeling tired still.

“Good morning, baby boy. How’d you sleep?” he asked, his voice thick and deeper than it normally was from sleep. I shrugged, not in the mood to talk. I still felt sleepy, but my body clock had roused me from sleep. It was better than waking up from a nightmare, although they would probably slow down because of all the drugs running through my system.

“Are you still sleepy?” he asked, stifling a smile at my expense. I nodded, scrubbing at my eyes and face. I noticed how the room was still dim, the windows covered to make the room darker. It was also quiet. I didn’t like that, though. I had gotten used to the dark, but I hated the silence. Silence gave free reign to the voices in my head.

“Then it’s a good thing you can sleep as much as you want. I need to get up and tell the team they can go get some sleep at a hotel. Do you need anything?”

I shook my head, laying back down with a wince. I nuzzled into the pillow, curling up again and closing my eyes. Sudden panic seized me.

_The team. THE TEAM!? THE TEAM! THEY ARE HERE. OH FUCK. OH NO._

I shot up in the bed, sitting up. My heart was hammering in my chest, my entire body shaking. I clutched at my chest, my lungs suddenly trying to suck in air in desperation. Aaron came to the bedside, rubbing his hand up and down my back. “Breathe, sweetheart. In and out slowly… breathe in… out. Just like that, baby. Just keep breathing in and out like that. It’s gonna be ok. You don’t have to see them right now. They’ll wait if you need them to.” I swallowed past the bile in my throat, taking in deep breaths before I passed out or something.

_What are they going to think? What are they going to SAY? We turned their lives upside down and now we’re back. They’re going to be disgusted. Look at you! You’re only good for fucking sex, now. They’re going to hate you. How are we going to handle that? What do we do? WHAT DO WE DO?_

**_Calm the fuck down, dork. They will be happy to see you. Just chill out._ **

_Chill out? CHILL OUT!? How am I supposed to chill out right now? WE KILLED SOMEONE LESS THAN 72 HOURS AGO AND NOW WE HAVE TO MEET WITH PEOPLE WE HAVEN’T SEEN IN A LONG TIME! They’re gonna hate me. They’re gonna be disgusted and they’re gonna want nothing to do with me._

**_You don’t know that. I mean Aaron still likes you, but then again, he originally just snatched you up for sex… but still! He cares. Everyone else will probably just be happy to see you. Calm down_.**

I calmed down enough, my muscles loosening as I started to breathe normally again. I laid back down, needing to sleep again before I thought about reuniting with my team. I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t know if I would ever really be ready for it. I closed my eyes, letting sleep take me away from the terrifying realities of the world. Of my world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and happy holidays!! :)
> 
> If the updates are a little slow this month it's because I've been busy. I'm also suffering from writers block and I'm trying to plot things out. I don't want to half ass my writing. Thank you for all the support and i hope you enjoy!


	9. Flashback I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotch has a flashback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU GLORIOUS MOTHERFUCKERS!! Love y'all so much. Thank you for all the support :)
> 
> Anyways, hope you guys enjoy :)

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared dream before.”  
-Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

_***2 Years Earlier*** _   
**Hotch’s POV**

_I sat at my desk, pouring over one of the many files stacked atop each other, trying to get through them all. I was quickly interrupted, a knock on my door bringing me out of my state of focus. I looked up, my eyes finding JJ and the case file she held in her hand. “New case,” she said, waiting for me to acknowledge that before moving to tell the rest of the team. I sighed, setting my pen down and then standing, looking out the window, watching the people in the bullpen. My sight went to Reese Benson, the newest addition. He was dressed in a navy pinstriped suit, a gray tie around his neck that matched the color of his eyes as well as a well-tailored vest that made him look even more fuckable than he already looked._

_I bit back a smirk and pushed away the not so work safe thoughts, exiting my office and making my way to the conference room. I sat down, pulling a file towards me and waiting for the others so we could brief. Morgan, Garcia, JJ, Prentiss, and Reid came in all at once, laughing and talking amongst one another about something. Reese trailed behind a bit, not engaging or laughing with the others. He seemed more distant. More independent. He waited for the others to take their seats before sitting in the last vacant chair between Prentiss and Reid. He pulled the file towards him, looking at JJ expectantly. His gaze went to Garcia when she started the briefing rather than JJ._

_“Today, crimefighters, we have 3 murdered teenage girls in Riverside, California. Skylar Peters, 17. Alexandria Myers, 16. Christine Iverson, 15. All were strangled after disappearing from their homes on Friday night,” Garcia said, clicking the remote in her hand and showing pictures of the girls. Each were Caucasian but they had different hair colors and different facial features, skewing the victimology._

_“Friday night? Maybe they sneaked out and went to a party? Got into an unlucky situation?” Morgan said, his questions more rhetorical to bring on more theoretical answers to unasked questions._

_“More than likely,” Reid said, reading a piece of paper out of his copy of the file, “all had GHB or gamma-hydroxybutyric acid in their systems. Given that the drug doesn’t have a smell or taste, the girls were probably unaware until they started feeling the effects.”_

_“Date rape drug. Maybe an upper classman looking to take advantage of one of these poor girls?” JJ threw out, trying to prompt more thinking. We wouldn’t know until we had looked more into the victims lives, of course, but the seed of some sort of direction was always helpful._

_“We’ll figure that out when we get to Riverside. Wheels up in 30,” I said, gathering the items from my file and standing. Everyone else stood and exited, talking to each other before getting to work. Reese didn’t, however, staring at the details of his file and jotting things down on a notepad. “Are you coming, Benson?” I asked, making the young man flinch._

_He looked up and then away, his timid nature getting the best of him. “Uh, y-yes sir. Just taking notes before I forget about… um… yeah. Sorry, sir,” he said in rush, standing up and taking his things with them. I stifled a grin, knowing that I had flustered the poor boy. He had been here for a month, although he hadn’t had to go out on a case yet. We hadn’t been very busy besides desk work. He had warmed up to everyone but me, it seemed, while he had been working at his desk in the bullpen. I still made him bashful and shy, which was amusing to me._

_I exited the conference room, preparing to fly to Riverside._

* * *

_I boarded the jet first, walking down the aisle and opening the carry-on storage compartments, placing my go bag in one of them and stepping out of the way and taking the first available seat. I slid into a window seat, watching the others board the jet behind one another. Reid sat next to me, Prentiss and JJ across from us. I watched as Reese waited again, trying to stay out of the way as though he was going to disrupt the flow of things. He sat next to Derek, watching as JJ walked past him to tell the pilots we were ready for takeoff. Within 10 minutes we were in the air and after 5 more we were cleared to walk around the small cabin._

_Morgan asked Reese to get up so he could come closer, sitting in one of the seats across from where the four of us were sitting, Reese trailing behind and taking a seat close to us but still somewhat out of the way. He had his file, notepad, and pen at the ready, notes already taking up half of the paper on his notepad. Organization was something he found to be important, I had learned, smiling internally as I realized I was right in my profiling of him. It was hard not to let my mind wonder to thoughts of him underneath me, my mind curious as to how subservient he would be in bed, especially with someone he found intimidating such as myself._

_Garcia winked onto my laptop screen, greeting us once again. “What have you got for us, Garcia?” I asked, shifting everyone into focus. I opened my file in my lap, looking over all the information inside. I took notice at the dump sites and positions of the bodies, trying to find discrepancies._

_“Well, my liege, I have a little bit of info for all of you. From what I could access within school records, all of these girls were incredibly well behaved and driven. Competed in sports, made the honor roll, were focused on getting into good colleges, were members of clubs and active in the community. All were normal teenagers. I still need to access their phone and personal data, but as of right now, they are squeaky clean,” Garcia explained, waiting for someone to tag onto her explanation._

_“Any social media presence? Most teens nowadays have social media accounts,” Dave asked._

_“Sadly, they do but nothing came of it. Unless you count pictures with friends and some advertising for a school musical,” Garcia said, frowning._

_“What about their parents? Anything there?” I asked, knowing that parents often had something to do with the disappearance of teens. People were willing to do a lot of things out of revenge or out of anger, including hurting other peoples’ or their own children. The thought disgusted me._

_“I am still digging, but if I find anything you will the first to know, good sir.”_

_“When we land, Reid will start a geographical profile, see if we get anything from that. Prentiss and Dave will go to the latest dumpsite. Benson, and I will set up at the precinct. Morgan and JJ, you will go find out whatever you can from the victims schools. Vendettas, any odd behavior, records, everything,” I stated, dividing everyone up as I usually did. With that Garcia winked off the screen, everyone beginning to settle in for the long flight ahead of us. Morgan moved back to his original seat and took out headphones, Reid, JJ, and Prentiss started playing cards, and Dave started reading a book._

_I stood before stilling momentarily, eyeing the man who was sitting away from everyone at the singular seats, his back turned so he couldn’t see anyone. Reese had distanced himself again. He had shed his jacket, the navy pinstriped fabric draped over the back of his seat. I continued my path, sitting down in front of the man and opening my file, deciding to get some work done. He looked up, acknowledging me and then looking down at his work quickly, like he was stealing glances. As though he wasn’t allowed to look me in the eyes or look at me in general for more than a few moments at a time._

_I paid that no mind, watching as he scribbled things down on his notepad and organized information in his own way. After a few more moments he stopped, looking up at me quizzically but looking down and ignoring whatever was bothering him. I simply watched, my face impassive as he continued charting things out and writing things down. Occasionally he would shuffle the papers in front of him or look at the crime scene photos, but other than that he worked diligently, pausing to look up momentarily and then going back to work when he realized I was still just watching him. Finally, he cleared his throat, still not looking at me but in a way asking me if he could ask a question of his own._

_“Something wrong, Benson?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. I knew what I was doing. I knew I was flustering him even more, but I wanted to. I wanted to see how much he would react to me. I found it both amusing and helpful as I profiled him a bit more._

_He shook his head, swallowing. “No sir, I’m just confused as to why you are sitting here watching me. Did I do something wrong, sir?” he asked nervously, his anxiety palpable._

_I didn’t let my emotions show, holding impassivity. Internally I was grinning, taking more satisfaction in him by the moment. **Shy yet always aware enough to show respect. Good boy.** “Nothing’s wrong, I simply noticed that you were off by yourself. I wanted to make sure you were ok. Normally, people can’t just jump into this job and not be somewhat bothered by it,” I explained._

_He nodded, thinking about my words for a moment before responding, “oh… well, um… I’m alright, sir. Thank you for asking and caring in the first place, sir. I’ve seen my fair share from working in New York. I’ll be able to handle it, sir.”_

_I nodded then gestured to his notes and the file in front of him, “what are your thoughts?”_

_“What?”_

_“What are your thoughts on the case? You seem to have quite a lot of notes already, so what is your theory thus far?” I reiterated._

_A flash of surprise crossed his face, as though it was surprising I wanted his opinion in the first place. “Um… well I think that the unsub is organized as he has seemed to manipulate and take advantage of ‘good girls.’ It takes skill to make a street smart and academically motivated teenage girl and then talk her into possibly drinking in order to drug her. More than likely, the unsub is close to their age as it would make the girls feel comfortable and still partially in control of the environment around them although it makes them more unsuspecting. He also strangled them, meaning he wanted a personal kill but none of these kills were sloppy. They were controlled and well thought out and because of that he will probably keep trophies, but we need to physically be at the crime scenes and victim’s residencies to find that out. There might be more victims from how confident these kills were, but I’m still unsure. I can only do so much with this information,” he explained, furrowing his brow as he checked over his notes to make sure he didn’t miss anything._

_I nodded approvingly, taking everything he said into consideration. “Good. Take a break. We have a long flight ahead of us,” I said, making him light up a bit at the praise. He enjoyed praise. **Noted.**_

_“Thank you, sir,” he said, moving papers around as he kept working. I didn’t comment on it nor did I direct him to take a break more firmly, not wanting to make him nervous. I wanted to play my cards right. I could get this boy; it simply took work and patience._

* * *

_We all piled into different SUVs the second we stepped off the jet onto the tarmac, not wasting a seconds worth of time on getting comfortable. We had a job to do and we were focused. It was what made us one of the most successful teams the BAU had ever seen. Morgan and JJ took one SUV, Dave and Prentiss took another, leaving Reid, Benson and I to take the last one. I got in the driver’s seat, Benson getting in the back and Reid taking the passenger seat. The ride was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. There wasn’t any unspoken tension or insistent anxiety, making everything easier._

_When we got to the PD, we made quick introductions, taking over the conference room and beginning the process of hanging up evidence so we could work. Benson stood back for a moment, silently asking what he should be doing. He didn’t want to disrupt any efficient process. I explained how we went about setting up and how we started cases, pinning things up as I went. It didn’t take long for him to get the gist, though, his brain picking up on our patterns and then finishing them out. He had slid behind a shield of professionalism and impassivity, letting his thoughts go unknown._

_He took a stack of pre-existing files on the cases and flipped through them, no doubt deciding where to start and what would be the most useful. It seemed he had decided, though, when he took the crime scene photos out and laid them out in rows and columns, taking his pen and examining each and then taking down notes he deemed important. “Benson, what are you doing?” I asked calmly, confused by the action._

_He looked up, sudden nervousness flaring in his irises. “I’m looking for discrepancies or oddities within the crime scene photos. I can do something else if you need me to, I just didn’t know… sorry, sir,” he said quickly._

_“Let me know if you find anything. Any new angle you can give us will be helpful,” I reassured, watching the split-second relief cross his face before he dove back into working. I took a copy of the files, reading over the departments initial findings and theories. After a few minutes Benson was up and putting things on the evidence board, making Reid and I turn our attention towards him._

_“I think I’ve got something,” Benson murmured, squinting at the photos and then checking his notes again. He turned back to us, trying to gauge if we were actually listening. Of course, he sprung into explanation as soon as he realized we were. “I was looking over the photos as well as the M.E. reports. The first two victims were strangled with the unsub’s bare hands, but if you look at the third victim you can see the bruising patterns are different and there are more bruises all over the victim’s body, indicating she was beaten. The M.E. determined it happened anti-mortem and with the different bruise pattern around the neck, the unsub used a ligature of some sort. My guess is a belt. Why change weapons now? And why beat the victim? He had already drugged her, and she isn’t a part of a pattern within victim type, so why the escalation of violence?”_

_Reid went over to where Benson was, leaning in to look at the photos on the board and to examine the patterns himself. “He’s right,” Reid declared after a few moments, straightening and looking at me._

_“The unsub might have found a preferred victim type or moved onto something he deems more satisfying. Either way, given the ethnicity, we’re dealing with a white male and given the ages, I’m guessing he’s in his early 20’s, maybe a little younger,” Benson said, “if he’s hitting his stride, he could go on a spree. Maybe escalate further. In all circumstances, he won’t stop until he is stopped.”_

_“Why early 20’s?” I asked. There was the possibility of someone older._

_“The unsub needs to have some way to get a girl who doesn’t usually party or go out, to go out. She wouldn’t go with someone older. This man will be older, charismatic, charming… but he still lacks some sort of confidence which is why he’s killing younger teenagers rather than grown women. Teens are easier to manipulate and ultimately he would have an easier time gaining their trust,” Benson explained. Reid looked at me with an impressed look on his face. I nodded, satisfied with Benson’s overview of the entire case. “Of course, it’s preliminary and the profile can change, but with the data I have this makes the most sense. We’ll know more when we interview the victims’ friends and family and when we have a geographical profile.”_

* * *

_We had yet another body, but the unsub had made a mistake. He gave us a way to find him and that’s exactly what we were doing when we were preparing to raid a party we had been alerted of. It gave us an opportunity to catch the unsub. We waited outside, waiting for the second team to slip around the back of the building._

_“We’re ready back here, Hotch,” Morgan said, “on your go.”_

_“Alright, we go in 3… 2… 1. We go now,” I announced, kicking the door in to reveal a bunch of wasted college and high school kids. There was a mix of yelling and screaming, people trying to instruct terrified drunk people. Then there was a small scuffle, Morgan asking what someone was doing and then the guy was taking off. Before Morgan could take off after him, Benson was off, holstering his weapon. I chased after them, Prentiss behind me. We slowed down when Benson tackled the man, wrestling with him and then flipping him over on the asphalt, pinning the man. Benson cuffed him and pulled him up, holding him tightly, a look of disgust on his face._

_Then we were standing behind one-way glass, watching the suspect we had come to know as Harrison Burks. Morgan offered to interrogated, but Benson jumped in, to my surprise, saying he could handle it. I didn’t know the full extent of his skill, so I sent Morgan in the room with him._

_Morgan walked behind Burks, leaning against the wall out of his sight. Benson pulled out his chair, dropping the file on the table and sitting down, never taking his eyes off of Burks. He flipped the file open, setting out some of the photos so Burks could see and gauging his reaction. “So,” Benson started, “do you want to tell me why you strangled those 3 girls and why you were attempting to drug and strangle a third, or do you want to know what I think?”_

_“Enlighten me,” Burks said, a shit eating grin on his face._

_“I think you can’t get an actual woman into bed with you. You’re all talk, arrogant, egotistical, and self-absorbed. What kind of woman wants that? Especially when you have so little to offer once you manage to get it up. So you take advantage of teenage girls who are inexperience in hopes they will be what you want, but they weren’t and you became so enraged, you killed them. The first kill was partially an accident, but it felt so good… you just had to do it again,” Benson stated, gauging everything Burks was doing. He had hit the nail on the head._

_“You can’t prove a thing,” Burks sneered._

_“Well I know that Melissa Conway didn’t like how you became violent after you couldn’t get hard and have sex with her, so it’s hard to believe that my theory is inaccurate,” Benson shot back, riling up Burks._

_That’s all it took because Burks was up and screaming the next moment. “THEY WERE JUST STUPID LITTLE SLUTS WHO NEEDED A REAL MAN TO SHOW THEM WHAT THEY WERE!” Benson was up quickly, catching Burks arm and flipping him, shoving him into the nearest wall._

_“Party’s over, you cruel bastard,” Benson hissed, cuffing Burks and then dragging him out of the room to deal with him. Morgan came back into the room with the files, an impressed look on his face. All of us were impressed, I think. We hadn’t seen that sort of confidence out of the young man before._

* * *

_We were exhausted when we got back to the hotel, relief practically dripping off everyone. “We take off at 9am tomorrow. Get some sleep everyone,” I said, essentially dismissing everyone._

_“I’m going to get a drink and binge something while I eat in my room, anyone want to join me?” Prentiss asked. JJ, Reid, and Morgan accepted, Dave and I declining. “Reese? What about you?” Prentiss asked, raising an eyebrow._

_He shook his head, a fake smile on his face. “No thank you. I need to get some sleep. Frankly, I’m quite tired,” he said dismissively, stepping into the elevator._

_My phone rang, making me sigh out of frustration. I had an idea of who it was. Fucking Strauss. I hung back as everyone walked to their rooms, pacing a small length of the hallway as I dealt with the woman on the other end of the line. It took ten minutes to talk to her, trying not to drag on the conversation. When I turned around to walk to my room, I nearly ran face first into Reese, who was exiting his room in gym shorts and a t-shirt. “Going somewhere, Benson?” I asked, giving him a small, exhausted smile._

_“Just need to hit the gym. Work off some stress, sir. Sorry for running into you. See you in the morning, sir,” he said before walking away. I watched him walk down the hall and then disappear into the elevator, an amused smirk on my face. **You, Reese Benson, are quite the mystery.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMK what you think and have a happy holidays!!


	10. Bittersweet Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I watched as the sun pierced through the small crack between the window and the curtains, illuminating Reese’s silhouette and making him look angelic. It was practically breath taking. I let out a sigh and smiled to myself, basking in the light and the feeling of stability that had suddenly washed over me like rain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: talk of drugging, talk of rape/rape aftermath, self harm, etc.
> 
> Hope you guys had a good holiday and that you all are safe. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Also, i wrote this while listening to the song SAIL by AWOLNATION on repeat, so listen to that if u really want the whole experience ;)

“May we think of freedom, not as the right to do as we please, but as the opportunity to do what is right.”  
-Peter Marshall

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

I sat in the chair a foot away from Reese’s hospital bed, watching as he slept. He was somewhat curled up, his arms around the comforter and sheets as though he was holding a person to him. His breathing was deep and even, his face showing a moment of peace from a world that terrified him. I could see the scars that marred his skin up until his skin was hidden by his hospital gown. There were cuts, burns, track marks and bruises, all illuminated by how his skin had paled in the five months he had been in captivity. He looked rough yet so peaceful as he slept, a moment of vulnerable fragility capturing his facial features. It was bittersweet in a way, sweet in how he looked and the peace he could maintain, but bitter knowing that would soon be stripped away and that he would be tormented at all hours of the day and night. Soon there would be no break.

I watched for who knows how long, finding my own solace in his breathing and occasional movements and noises. At one point it looked as though he was smiling, but in the dimness of the room I couldn’t tell if he actually was, or if my mind was trying to twist what I was seeing. I didn’t bother reading into it any further, afraid I would come apart if I thought about it too hard. Reese deserved to be at peace; to be happy. He had told me this wasn’t my fault, but I simply didn’t believe that, guilt circling my mind and picking at my sanity like vultures. But for now, I watched the gentle rising and falling of Reese’s chest, focusing on the fact that he was alive and there was still a chance. Still a small spark of hope.

I knew I needed to tell the team he was fine, but I didn’t want to leave him. The last time I had made him feel alone I had gotten him kidnapped and tortured and raped for five months. I didn’t want him to wake up and find me gone and panic. I pulled my phone out instead, opening a group message and sending a text to everyone.

**_To: Derek Morgan, JJ Jareau, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia_ **

_**Me:** He’s sleeping soundly. Go check in at the hotel and get some sleep. He’ll be out for a while and he panicked when I mentioned you all were here._   
_**DR:** Will do. Get some sleep yourself, Aaron. You will also need it._

I shoved my phone in my pocket, resuming what I was doing originally, which was simply watching my boy sleep. Something in the back of my mind told me I didn’t deserve to call him mine in any form or fashion, but another part said I needed to in order to protect him. Reese often projected a confident, strong outer shell but often he could be insecure and broken. He was human, after all. My eyes raked over his sleeping form, still sleeping peacefully. My eyes snagged on the purple and black and yellowish bruising around his neck, rage and guilt encircling me tighter. Begging me to break. To snap. To lose my composure. But I wouldn’t. That would help nothing now.

I remember his first case and how he had analyzed the bruise patterns on the victims, helping us create a profile. A more accurate profile. My jaw clenched as I fell into thought, thinking about my career. My career had nearly killed two people I loved. My career had taken my thoughts and emotions and ripped them to shreds. My career had forced others away and destroyed their lives. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was all worth it anymore. In this moment it felt as though it wasn’t; as thought the lives that had been forever changed, were changed for the worse. Reese whimpered and I fell back into reality, my body tensing as I prepared for the possibility of a nightmare, but he just twitched a bit and then continued sleeping soundly.

For hours I simply watched him sleep, my mind unable to turn off. I couldn’t sleep now and that wasn’t even because of the chair. I tapped my fingers together, something I did when I felt restless. It was something I did when I couldn’t get the uneasy hum in the back of my brain to go silent. For a moment, I took in the silence, pondering whether it was strained or whether it was comfortable. It was an odd mix of both. The soft lamp light reflected comfort and relaxation, yet the gruesome truths of why I was sitting before the man in the hospital bed cracked the gentleness of the silence. In my day to day life there was seldom a moment of silence or quietness, phones and people creating noise that seemed unescapable, but for once I hated the silence. I wanted the noise to drown out the hum in the back of my mind.

I watched as the sun pierced through the small crack between the window and the curtains, illuminating Reese’s silhouette and making him look angelic. It was practically breath taking. I let out a sigh and smiled to myself, basking in the light and the feeling of stability that had suddenly washed over me like rain. Even when bruised and broken he looked beautiful. My phone buzzed in my pocket, making me turn my attention away from the sight in front of me.

_**SR:** We are coming back to the hospital but are stopping for coffee first. Do you want anything? Food? Coffee?_   
_**Me:** A tall black coffee and something edible. I don’t care, just something._   
_**SR:** Will do. See you in about half an hour._

I put my phone back in my pocket, enjoying how the light danced across things within the room. It gave me more of a chance to study Reese. I noticed the length of his hair and how it fell into his face. He had what I called ‘boy band’ hair. The strands were ruffled up and greasy, telling me it had probably been awhile since he had last had a chance to get clean. There was some stubble on his face, so he had shaved at some point. Probably at the discretion of the unsub.

I smiled when he started to stir, a small exhalation leaving his mouth as he turned over onto his back and slowly opened his eyes. He looked over, giving me a sleepy smile, his eyes closing once again. “Good morning, baby boy. How did you sleep?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. He mumbled something that I couldn’t understand. I stood and walked the few steps to the bedside, taking one of his hands in my own. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” I said, amused.

His face scrunched up, telling me he was still tired. “Slept fine. Just sore. ‘M still tired though,” he complained. He let out a sleepy groan, probably disapproving of all the meds he was on. Reese was stubborn and that often meant the refusal of help. Even medicine at times.

“Well, once the doctor or nurse checks you out, we can know when they are ready to release you. It will be a long process though,” I said, making him sigh out of exasperation.

“Hopefully it’s soon. Hate being in hospitals,” he said in complaint.

“Are you hungry? Need any water or anything?” I asked. He shook his head, a flicker of anxiety passing over him. “What is it?”

He peered up at me through his lashes, thinking of how to respond. I was hoping he would tell me the truth, not just something he thought I wanted to hear. “It’s nothing. Just ready to be out of here and someplace that is not… well, wherever the hell we are,” he said emotionlessly. It was a lie, but I was willing to let it go for the time being. He was going through enough at the moment.

“Call a nurse,” I ordered. He did it, both of us waiting for a nurse and doctor to enter the room.

A middle-aged man stepped into the room, a young woman behind him. “Ahh, Mr. Benson. You’re awake. How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice cheery and attitude upbeat. I noticed that it seemed to agitate Reese, making me have to stifle a chuckle. It was kind of funny. Kind of.

“Well I got stabbed twice and I’m on a lot of drugs so… sore and groggy,” Reese said, mocking the upbeat attitude the doctor possessed. Reese had a fake smile plastered on his face to hammer his bitchy-ness home.

The doctor paid him no mind, walking over with something and stopping by the bedside. “Open your mouth so I can look at your throat,” he ordered. Reese did it without hesitation, the man shining the light down his throat and looking. “You have quite a bit of bruising,” he said, pulling away, “swallowing things might be a little uncomfortable and your throat might be a bit sore for a few days, but that will go away fairly quickly.” Reese shook his head emphatically, mouthing what the doctor said when he turned his back. I bit my bottom lip, trying not to laugh at Reese’s annoyance. The doctor turned back around, looking at me and then looking at Reese. “I need to check your stitches and ask you a few personal questions. Do you want him to step out or stay?”

Reese looked at me, gauging whether I would want to stay or not. He gave me one of those submissive, pleading looks. He was asking for permission. That made a few alarm bells rings, but I ignored them, nodding and then walking to the door and exiting. I was going to see the team and claim my coffee. I strode through the stark hallways, coming out of one and into a waiting area. Everyone was sitting near each other, talking and drinking coffee. Garcia noticed me and picked up a bag and a tall cup, extending them out to me.

“How is he?” JJ asked.

I took a sip of my coffee before replying, “he’s tired from the drugs and does not want to be in a hospital on drugs. The doctor is taking a look at him right now.”

“Is he talking?” Reid asked.

I nodded. “He talked to me last night and a little this morning. He’s very hesitant about it, though. I think he has Stockholm,” I said, the words marred with unspoken emotion, “he waits rather than just talking. Waiting for permission. I’m hoping he will fall back into certain social norms right away, but I don’t think he will. He’s still scared and somewhat shocked.”

“God… I can’t even imagine what he went through…” Garcia whispered, a haunted look on her face. I knew what was running through her head. It was the same thought running through all our heads. It was dark and twisted and graphic from years of collecting gruesome ideas of the cruelty of other human beings. The world could be cold and right now it was; it was fucking frigid.

“Considering how much bruising there is around his neck and all the scars on his arms alone, it can’t have been pretty,” Morgan said, sounding resigned to the terrible thoughts of what could have happened in the past five months.

“You can say that again,” I muttered under my breath, opening the bag and taking out a breakfast sandwich. Then another thought came to mind. “He also seemed hesitant about eating and drinking. I don’t know what he went through, but something about eating makes him panic a little.” Reid furrowed his brow but didn’t say anything, the gears in his brain clearly turning. I didn’t comment on it or prompt an explanation. Before anyone could say anything else we heard yelling and there was the rush of a few orderlies dashing down one of the hallways.

“GET THE HELL OFF ME!”

Morgan turned in his chair, “you don’t think that’s—” He was cut off by the next sentence.

“MR. BENSON, PLEASE CALM DOWN.” With that everyone was up and rushing down the hall to join the commotion. Reese was thrashing, trying to fight the orderlies and the doctor trying to hold him down. There was blood dripping from one of his wrists, his body strung tight as he clawed at the men attempting to pin him down. I got into the room, ignoring the nurse telling me I couldn’t go in. I didn’t give a damn. My boy was panicking and needed someone there to stabilize the situation.

“REESE!” I snapped out loudly, his thrashing instantly stopping as he shook his head, looking at me with dazed and unfocused eyes. “Stop fighting,” I ordered grimly, his face falling and his hands pulling away and falling to his sides. He kept his eyes locked on mine, fear swimming in the gray depths. The orderlies cautiously and slowly let go, keeping their hands up and moving back a few steps. I took a few slow steps forward, keeping myself calm but firm in my resolution. I needed to know what the hell just happened. “What happened?” I asked, glancing at the doctor.

“I really can’t discuss that—”

“I am his POA as well as his significant other, so yes, you _can_ , and you _will_. Now what _happened?_ ” I asked sternly, giving the doctor a steely glare. I made my way over to the trembling man on the hospital bed and let him wrap his arms around me, his face burying in my chest while I simply raised a brow at the doctor.

The doctor sighed, explaining, “we came in to discuss the anal trauma and to simply look at the stitches in his abdomen. We told him he could leave in 3-4 days, depending on how well he takes treatment because there is only so much we could do here, but he would have to take a psychological evaluation. We also told him that your team seemed excited to get to see him. That seemed to make him panic and he started clawing at his wrists, as you can see by the blood all over his left arm.”

I looked down, pulling back to look at my boy who was looking up at me with fearful eyes, his fragility and anxiety apparent. “Is that true?” I asked softly. He didn’t give me a verbal answer, he just nodded, holding up his bloody wrist but looking away from me. I looked back at the doctor and he continued.

“I told Samantha, er, the nurse to help me sedate him and that made him panic more. He started begging for me not to and then became violent, thus the orderlies coming to help control the situation. I’m done with his examination for now, in fact I was going to get him some food sent up as well as some water. I’ll need to take care of the wound on his wrist before I leave now or Samantha can do it,” the doctor explained.

I looked back down at Reese, who was holding me tightly, his arms trembling. He was terrified. It made me want to yell at the doctor for being so careless. You don’t just throw a person who came in dissociated from trauma back into normal life. “Do you want the doctor to bandage your wrist or the nurse, sweetheart? I promise I’ll stay in here the entire time. Nothing will happen to you,” I reassured, gingerly wrapping my arms around the shaking form.

His voice was broken and hoarse when he answered, “whatever you think is best, sir.” That struck a nerve deep inside me, but I didn’t let it show. _Oh god, Hotchner. He has Stockholm. He has it bad. Fucking great._

“The nurse will be fine. And can we get him some water and something to eat please, JJ?” I asked, looking back at the team who were piled in the entrance of the room. She nodded, mouthing a sure and then taking Garcia and Prentiss with her. The other three followed them out, deciding to give us some privacy. The nurse went to one of the cabinets, gathering first aid supplies and the coming over. “Baby, you have to let go so she can bandage your wrist. I’ll hold you as long as you want once she’s done. You aren’t in trouble, you just need to let the doctors do their job,” I said gently. He seemed unsure but did as he was asked, unwrapping himself from me and holding his wrist out to the nurse.

She smiled at him, taking an alcohol pad out of its packaging and taking his wrist in her hand, talking to him as she did. “Hi Reese. I’m Samantha. You can call me Sam,” Sam said sweetly, her voice quiet as she went about cleaning the scratches. Reese looked up at me, asking if he could talk to her with his eyes. I nodded, silently cursing Webb for breaking him like this. He wasn’t an object that needed permission to do small things like respond to people who talk to him.

“Hi. I’m sorry for all of that… just p-panicked,” he whispered, his voice small and meek. Right now, he probably felt small; small and weak and he was far from the both of those things. He had simply been told that so much he believed it. I hated myself for being someone who had called him weak. He wasn’t weak nor had he ever been.

“It’s alright, Reese. I understand. Can you tell me what scared you? I want to make you feel safe while you’re here. You’re here to get better, not worse,” Sam explained gently, taking out gauze and starting to wrap his wrist in it.

“T-The s-s-syringe. I didn’t understand… I had been obedient. Or at least I t-thought I ha-had been. I’m s-sorry,” he explained in a whisper. My heart ached at that admission, the word obedient sticking out and slapping me across the face. _He was drugged when he did something the unsub didn’t like. Oh my god. That’s sick. If only I could fucking tear the unsub limb from fucking limb._

Sam pursed her lips, snipping the access gauze and then taking out some medical tape to wrap around the gauze. “What do you mean by you thought you had been obedient?” she asked, making me tense. I didn’t want her to send him into a full-blown panic, but he didn’t, he sat quietly for a moment.

“Master had rules… I don’t know your rules so I’m guessing and… whenever I was disobedient Master would d-drug me and then ma-make me go through w-withdrawal as punishment,” he stuttered, his eyes becoming glassy for a moment and then tears were pooling in them. His language confirmed my suspicions, making me close my eyes as I tried to suppress my anger.

Sam shook her head, giving him a sympathetic smile as she started packing up the medical supplies. “Oh no, Reese. You weren’t bad or disobedient, we just wanted you to calm down when you started fighting. We don’t want you to hurt yourself,” she said, explaining as though she was talking to a child. In a way she was, his victimization numbing him from normal societal social norms. Stockholm broke and then enslaved people, making them loyal to even the cruelest of monsters. Sam looked at me and then said, “your partner here can explain the rules to you, ok? You did great, dude.” Reese gave her a shy smile, his cheeks tinging pink as she put the medical supplies away and left us.

“You did very well, baby boy. I’m so proud of you,” I praised, making him smile more. His smile was intoxicating, bright and boyish and innocent even though he was anything but. He peered up at me, wiping the tears from his eyes. His eyes glittered in the light, his irises a beautiful icy gray. I pulled him into another light embrace, doing my best not to hurt him. I kissed the top of his head and then let go. He squeezed me a little tighter and then let go reluctantly, letting me pull my chair up yet again. His face then scrunched, a puzzled look on his face. He looked like he wanted to ask a question but was refraining from doing so out of fear. He was scared he would be punished if broke arbitrary rules that no longer applied to him.

“Is there something you want to ask? You can talk to me, baby, I’m not going to get upset at you if you do. Frankly, I would prefer you talking rather than you not,” I said gently, not wanting to freak him out but still laying out my expectations in a way he could follow. He would be able to understand that I wouldn’t get upset at him for talking.

He looked at me, his brow furrowed. “So then… w-what are the r-rules?” he asked, his voice wavering a bit. He thought the question would make me upset. It wouldn’t. I wouldn’t be upset at him for being human. For being human after suffering through a tragedy all his own.

I thought for a minute, trying to figure out how I needed to phrase what I was about to say. In truth there were no rules, but he would panic if I told him that. “First, you’re allowed to talk. Talk as much as you want. No one will be upset should you talk and if they do get upset, they’ll have to deal with me. Second, you are allowed to make decisions. You don’t have to ask me for permission to make a choice when someone gives you options about what you want. Third, you don’t have to call me sir. I won’t get mad if you do, though. I’m simply saying you don’t have to. Finally, no one will punish you should you ‘break’ these rules. We can handle the rest as we go, ok, baby boy?”

He nodded, “yes si—I mean… ok.” He was clearly not used to not calling every man he talks to sir, although he didn’t have the same rule for women. My guess was that he was never around women in the last five months. JJ knocked on the door, everyone behind her as she waited for the green light to come in. I motioned them all in, all of them taking positions around the room, looking at Reese who was sitting up, his back leaning against the bed that had been raised so he could sit up. JJ came over slowly, handing me the water bottle. I opened it, handing it to Reese who took it and started drinking it. He drained the whole thing. I didn’t blame him; I hadn’t seen him drink or eat a thing the entire time we had been here.

“The nurse is going to bring some food for him,” JJ said quietly. I just nodded, eyeing Reese the entire time. He was looking at everyone, tears pooling in his eyes yet again. Unlike the last time, however, he smiled, biting his lower lip to stop himself from crying any further.

Garcia was the first to say something, “hi, Reid Junior.” Garcia was holding back her normally very energized self. I could tell it was hard for her, though.

“Hi, PG,” Reese said quietly, giving her a small wave. Although it was extremely downplayed, the excitement was rolling off of Reese in waves.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Mm… I’m ok. I’ll be out of here in 3-4 days. I missed you guys… a lot,” he said, looking at me with wonder in his eyes. This was the happiest I had seen him the entire time I had been here.

“You did?” Garcia asked, clutching her chest and smiling warmly.

He nodded, smiling back shyly. I watched as joyous tears dripped from his eyes and rolled down his face. He wiped them away quickly, looking at everyone. Then his smile got wider as he pointed to Reid. “I even missed you, genius, although I did want to slap you after you kept giving me that Rubik’s cube,” he admitted, making everyone chuckle.

He was back. Reese Benson was back in our world. More importantly, I had my boy back. And I was never going to be so stupid and push him away again. I was going to stick by his side for a long time. I wasn’t going to leave him behind anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaron got his shit together, y'all. Look at him go, being a whole supportive boyfriend and shit. LMK what you think and thanks for reading, kind stranger! ;)


	11. Intrusive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I thought my brain was going to split in two, my mind confused as to what to do. Master said I wasn’t allowed to have an opinion because I didn’t deserve one. Property didn’t deserve anything unless their owner said they did. But now I was told I was allowed to by people I trusted… at least trusted to an extent. I trusted Aaron for the most part."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: avoidance of eating, Stockholm Syndrome, intrusive thoughts, self-deprecation, thoughts of self-harm, etc. Please read with discretion. 
> 
> I GAVE Y'ALL CUTE SHIT AT THE END BECAUSE REESE DESERVES CUTE SHIT DAMN IT! ENJOY THE CHAPTER!

“To effectively communicate, we must realize that we are all different in the way we perceive the world and use this understanding as a guide to our communication with others.”  
-Tony Robbins

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

Everyone was in the room smiling and laughing and making small talk when we were interrupted by a nurse bringing food in as well as extra water. Reese eyed the woman and the tray of food wearily, the light leaving his eyes and leaving a cold, desolate look on his face. Something seemed to flicker in his eyes, but it wasn’t him. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, so I said nothing, watching as he looked at me cautiously and then back down at the food in front of him. The nurse left as quickly as she’d come, going on about her job. I watched Reese start to shake, his eyes glassy and so incredibly _broken._ I watched yet again as tears slid down his face, although he made no noise. He looked numb and closed off. I didn’t want him to fall into another state of dissociation, but I wanted him to have some privacy incase he broke down.

“Can you guys give us a few minutes?” I asked. They all nodded collectively, each of them looking heartbroken as they quietly exited the room. I looked down at him, softening, “Reese, what’s wrong?” He didn’t say anything, instead looking at me with his haunted gray eyes. I knew he was trapped in his head but there was little I could do unless he talked to me. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked softly. I wasn’t going to push him very hard. I didn’t want to hurt him anymore than he was already hurting. He shook his head no, closing his eyes and then wiping his tears away. I hated seeing him like this, broken and distraught and confused. It was like pieces of him were dying in front of me, but I could do nothing to stop them from falling and shattering.

“Can I go back to sleep?” he asked quietly.

I pursed my lips, thinking about it. “Baby, you really need to eat. You haven’t had a thing besides a bottle of water,” I said, trying not to sound like I was attacking him. He was fragile at the moment; he needed gentleness, not forcefulness.

He looked up at me, his eyes showing off a broken innocence, but he gave in quickly. “Ok. Can you pass me that bottle of water, too, please?” he asked quietly, pulling the food towards him. I nodded, picking up a bottle of water and opening it and then passing it to him. He took a sip of it, swallowing and then screwing the cap back on and setting it on the tray next to his food. I watched as he picked up his fork, narrowing his eyes and sliding his fingers over the metal. Then he eyed the food again, looking at the array before him. It was simple chicken, rice, a variety of spring vegetables, a roll, and a cup of red jello. He let out an amused breath, laughing to himself about something it seemed. For the most part he picked at his food, but he ate some so I was fine with that. As long as he ate something, I didn’t care.

He then pushed the tray away, looking at me, “can I go to sleep now? Please?”

I sighed but nodded, “yes, you can.” I cleared everything away so a nurse or someone else could pick it up. I sat down in my chair, watching him shift around and get comfortable. He tossed and turned for a few minutes, wincing every time he moved from the soreness in his abdomen. He looked at me, opening his mouth but then closing it, letting his words go unspoken. “You can talk freely, remember?”

He gave me a sheepish look. “Sorry… um, can you like… turn the TV on or something? I just hate the quiet… it freaks me out,” he admitted quietly, giving me a pleading look.

“Of course, I can,” I said, smiling at him. I stood and retrieved the remote, flicking the TV on and smiling when I flicked the channels to a crime procedural. I knew he liked those. He enjoyed profiling the characters and then solving the cases before anyone else did. He always pointing out inaccuracies and disapproved when he couldn’t profile the characters. I found that funny and somewhat cute, although I wouldn’t admit that to anyone but him. He seemed to ignore the screen though, nuzzling into his pillow and closing his eyes, a small, contented sigh leaving his chest. I knew he wanted the noise. I knew he hated silence. Ever since Texas he needed noise and a usually a bit of light to make him feel safe.

Within a few minutes he was asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly, his body finding refuge in his dreams. I took out my phone, pulling up the same group message.

**_To: Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia, JJ Jareau_ **

_**Me:** He’s asleep if you want to come back into the room._

A minute later there was a soft knock on the door and the team was re-entering, watching the young man sleep peacefully. I stood, letting someone else have my chair if they wanted it but no one made a move to sit down. I stared at Reese’s face and body; the story of a tormented soul written all over him. More of his arms were exposed and you could see a faint scar around his wrist, more than likely from being chained up somewhere. You couldn’t see any other scarred areas, though, and I think he liked that. I couldn’t tell if he was bothered by the scars or not, his emotional state still a bit of a mystery.

Everyone stood in the room in silence, watching him and not saying a word. Dave was the one to break the silence after at least 15 minutes. “He’ll get through this,” Dave murmured confidently. For once I didn’t know if he was right. Reese had already been scarred and now this had happened. No one spoke after that, everyone staying silent out of fear of what would come out of their mouths.

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

I let out a sleepy, unsatisfied groan, my eyes blinking open and showing me an entire group of people. The entire team was in my room, quietly talking and watching me. _That’s… not weird at all._ I pushed up a little, looking back at them, my face showing off my exhaustion but giving nothing else away. Morgan noticed I was awake and looking at them, a bright smile playing on his lips, “good afternoon to you, polar bear. How was your hibernation?” I glared at him but didn’t offer anything in return. I felt… off. I had felt off this entire time, but this felt… different. It wasn’t numbness nor was it pain… it was something I couldn’t explain. Something I didn’t understand.

Penelope smacked him on the shoulder, scolding him, “Derek Morgan, behave.”

He threw his hands up, giving her a confused look, “I am! Just joking around, baby girl. Lighten up. The kid needs it.” I quirked an eyebrow but still stayed silent, not in a talking mood. My muscles felt tight and my stomach felt sore, despite all the drugs I was on. I noticed that the mostly uneaten food was gone, making me feel relieved. I didn’t want to explain that I didn’t do anything to deserve to eat… I had killed a man, a good man, and then disrupted their lives. I didn’t deserve the privilege of food.

_**Food isn’t a fucking privilege and Webb wasn’t a good man. Stop telling yourself that, dummy. Honestly, for being super smart you are terribly stupid at the same time.** _

_Go away, Benjamin. I’m not in the mood to deal with you. I’m dealing with enough at the moment._

I shook my head a little, as though I was trying to physically fight Benjamin off. I was in a way, trying not to let him take over my head and then my body. Aaron would leave me if he found out about Benjamin. The team would hate me if they found out about Benjamin. I already hated myself enough for letting Benjamin exist in the first place, so everyone would probably feel the same way. I was already burden enough. I fucked everything up. Everything. I made everything worse for everyone. It was a shock that Aaron still loved me, but if he knew about Benjamin he wouldn’t. He would think I was weaker than he already thought I was.

_He was right, though. I am weak. I am pathetic. I’m weak and pathetic and utterly worthless. So fucking stupid, Reese. So fucking worthless and unlovable. Aaron will leave once he sees that. He probably hates you. Everyone will leave you. Everyone will leave you and then you’ll be alone. Worthless, pathetic, piece of fucking trash._

“How are you feeling, kid?” Derek asked, which surprised me. It was normally Aaron asking me these questions. I just shrugged, scrubbing at my face and eyes. I couldn’t shake off my exhaustion and I couldn’t tell if it was from the drugs or if I was falling into some sort of depressive episode already.

_Why? Maybe I deserve it. I killed Master. I fucking killed him. Idiot. So fucking stupid. He was the only one that wanted you. Everyone else gets sick of you. So fucking stupid. Idiot. Waste of god damn space._

“Not in the mood to talk, huh?” Derek said, finding that amusing. I didn’t let my irritation at that show, simply staying impassive and relatively emotionless. If I spoke, I would say something wrong and they would hurt me. I wasn’t going to give myself the chance to be disobedient.

_Too late for that, isn’t it? You literally KILLED Master. Disobedient bitch. You deserve punishment. You don’t deserve kindness and love, you stupid, pathetic bitch. All your good for is being used and you managed to fuck that up too. No one will ever want you now._

I could feel a headache building, my stress at this entire ordeal finally breaking free in the form of pain. I deserved it, though. I deserved to feel pain. I deserved to be dead or to be suffering. I didn’t understand why everyone was treating me so nicely, why everyone was being gentle with me. It made no sense to me, but I didn’t get a say. I was less. My thoughts didn’t matter. I didn’t matter. I was less than everyone; I was an object for people to use and that’s all I would ever be good for. Even then I couldn’t do that right.

I looked at the TV screen, finding an episode of NCIS playing on the screen. Where there was once intrigue, I simply felt sick. I was no longer interested. I wanted to listen to music and to cut. My skin itched with the desire to, but I wouldn’t get an opportunity to while I was in the hospital. The scratch at my wrist was one off, but if I cut with purpose, I would have to stay in the hospital longer. I didn’t want to stay in this place any longer. I wanted to go home… although I didn’t really know where home was. I didn’t have a home. Even if I still had the apartment, it wouldn’t feel right. I had no where I truly felt safe or anywhere, I felt I could let my guard down. I would get hurt or fuck up if I let my guard down.

I watched blankly as the episode played, ignoring the other people in the room and basically everything around me. I don’t think I was doing it on purpose… it simply happened. When someone waved their hand in front of my face I snapped back into reality, looking at who was trying to garner my attention. It was Derek. He wore a look of concern, his eyes narrowed, “are you alright, kid? We can leave if you need us to.”

I shook my head, “I’m fine. Just have a headache and feel tired from all the drugs I’m on. Sorry, sir.” I then shook my head, rubbing at my forehead. Not using titles such as ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ for everyone felt wrong. How was I supposed to adjust when everyone else was above me? I was less. Less.

_Follow the rules. Follow the rules. Follow the rules. God, why can’t you just follow the rules? So stupid._

Derek gave me a weird look but didn’t comment on it. He looked at the TV screen and then back at me. “Interesting show?” he asked, trying to engage me in a conversation.

_Why is he asking me? My opinion doesn’t matter. Don’t forget your place. Don’t forget your purpose. Follow the rules. Be obedient. Be grateful for what you are given. Don’t forget your place. Don’t forget what you are._

My confusion at his question must have shown on my face because he get pushing, trying to coax an answer out of me. He was trying to get me to talk. “Do you like the show? You can answer. There is no wrong answer here, kid. Just give your opinion,” he instructed, as though I intellectually couldn’t understand that concept. And I could, but it was odd. I understood that I could answer and that I had an answer, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer out of fear and conditioning.

“Morgan,” Aaron said firmly. He must have said something, but I didn’t catch it. Derek didn’t ask me anymore questions, he simply sighed and gave me a small, sorrowful smile and stayed where he was. He was sitting in the chair next to my bed. Aaron stood next to him, looking at me pointedly. “Baby, do you remember what I said? You can answer when people ask you questions. No one is going to get upset at you,” Aaron reiterated gently. I thought my brain was going to split in two, my mind confused as to what to do. Master said I wasn’t allowed to have an opinion because I didn’t deserve one. Property didn’t deserve anything unless their owner said they did. But now I was told I was allowed to by people I trusted… at least trusted to an extent. I trusted Aaron for the most part.

“I understand, sir… I just… I… what was your question again?” I asked, my confusion painting my facial expression, but I was going to do as I was told. I wasn’t going to be disobedient. When Derek gave Aaron a worried look I perceived that as a sign I had upset him. Neither of them deserved to be upset because of me. “I’m s-sorry,” I whispered, fear starting to tighten around my chest like a steel band.

“No, no, no, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Aaron amended quickly, making some of my panic subside, but I was still cautious; I was still on high alert.

Derek asked his question again, pointing at the TV screen, “I asked you if the show was interesting to you or not.”

I shrugged, “not particularly. I used to find it interesting… not so much anymore, sir.” I mentally slapped myself, trying to fix myself, “I mean, not so much anymore, Derek. Sorry.” I kept my self-deprecating comments to myself, not offering more than I had to.

“Do you want me to change the channel? We can watch something else.”

I shook my head. “No need. As long as there is noise. You can change it if you want though.”

“OH!” Penelope exclaimed, digging around in her bag for something, her heels clicking as she approached my bedside, “we got you something the other day. Hotch said you liked music, so we got you these.” She pulled out an older style iPod and some really nice Bose headphones. My mouth dropped open, shock and excitement radiating off me. I hadn’t listened to actual music in who knows how long. I looked Aaron and then at everyone. “Here, sugar. Take them. I downloaded all your music onto it already,” Penelope said sweetly, extending them out to me. I looked at Aaron, asking if it was actually ok. He nodded, a wide smile on his face.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice still quiet as I took the headphones and iPod from her. I slid my fingers over the cool metal of the iPod, trying to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I plugged the headphones in, putting them over my ears and then turning the iPod on, scrolling through the extensive library. Every song I had ever owned was on here. I paused when I saw my own name in the artists section, clicking a button and looking at what was listed under my own name. It was my record that I had made when I was 17. I looked at them, a grin on my face. I laughed, putting my head in my hands as I thought about how terribly written the entire thing was.

“What’s so funny?” JJ asked, puzzled.

“My own album is on here that I made when I was 17. I was hoping no one would ever find the thing. It was such a bad record,” I said, wincing as I continued to laugh.

Derek chuckled, “you have a good voice, though, kid.”

I shook my head, feigning disapproval. “No, I most certainly do not,” I said in disagreement.

“Then sing,” Aaron said firmly, making my eyes go wide. I looked at him, wide eyed, hoping he wasn’t serious.

“Are you sure?” I asked, skeptical.

Aaron shrugged, grinning at me. “You don’t have to, but we think you sing pretty well.”

“All of you listened to the record?” I asked, stunned. They collectively nodded, making me swallow. I didn’t really want to show off my terrible voice. I was mediocre at best in my opinion, not that my opinion mattered.

Derek ruffled my hair, laughing, “just listen to your music, kid.” I obliged him, putting the headphones back on and scrolling back through the library. I landed on the song “Cold Cold Cold” by Cage the Elephant. I smiled as the song began to play, the glorious sound of actual music making me sigh in contentment.

I slid one side of the headphones off my ear, looking at Penelope. “Penelope, seriously, thank you. This is great. I haven’t listened to music in…” I paused, looking over to Reid, “Spence, how long have I been gone?”

“5 months, 22 days, 14 hours, 17 minutes, and 33 seconds,” Reid calculated quickly, “it’s April.”

I looked back at Penelope, an amused smile on my face, “well, in that long. Thank you. So much.”

“No problem, honey. I’m happy you like them,” Penelope said, a smile on her face and happy tears in her eyes.

“I love them,” I said, my smile getting wider as I let the lyrics take over my thoughts. I tapped my fingers to the rhythm, humming as the song played. The room felt collectively joyous in that moment, everyone not so worried about everything. It felt good. It felt right. The guitar solo hit near the end of the song, making me nearly moan out of happiness. I thought I was going to cry from happiness.

“That good?” Emily teased. I nodded enthusiastically, falling back and letting my back and head hit the pillows and bed from happiness and some drastic feeling of relief.

“What song?” Derek asked curiously.

“Cold Cold Cold. Cage the Elephant,” I said, hitting the back button and playing it again, “if you haven’t listened to it, you should.” I realized then how much I missed playing music. I had taken it for granted in my day to day life. “I can play this song on my guitar… I missed music so much,” I whispered, closing my eyes. It felt damn near euphoric.

Derek started humming, a lost look on his face. “It goes like that right?” he asked. I nodded, tapping my fingers as the song sped up a bit.

I looked at Penelope and Aaron, my face becoming serious. “I love you both,” I said, leaving no room for debate.

Aaron chuckled, coming over to my side and kissing the top of my head. “I love you too, sweetheart. We missed you and I thought that this would help you control some of your panic. Appalachian Spring is on there too as well as a bunch of classical pieces. Penelope did great,” he said, smiling down at me. Everyone was looking at us, a bit surprised but still happy.

I furrowed my brow, lost as to why they were looking at us like that. “What?” I asked.

Reid opened his mouth to say something but shut it, a wide smile on his face as he stifled a laugh. Dave rolled his eyes and explained. “They aren’t used to Aaron showing affection,” he muttered.

“IT’S CUTE!” Garcia exclaimed, Emily and JJ murmuring something in agreement. I looked up at Aaron, eyes wide again, a blush creeping up and spreading across my face. I could have sworn his face was tinged pink.

“Wait until we start making out on the plane,” Aaron mumbled dryly.

I raised my eyebrows, smirking. “Oh yeah?” I asked, amused and thoroughly entertained, despite my embarrassment.

Aaron’s face became stern. “No. Don’t even think about it,” he commanded in a no-nonsense tone.

I threw my hands up, scowling at him. “You suggested it, bello. Not my fault,” I muttered defensively. He gave me a look that told me to drop it. I looked back down at the screen on the iPod, deciding to listen to a different song. I played “Arabella” by the Arctic Monkeys.

For a fleeting moment, I felt put together, all my worries and stresses and intrusive thoughts silencing as a bright happiness consumed me. For once, I had hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed :)


	12. Glass House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I didn’t like how that sounded, anxiety settling in my gut. I put my headphones back on, turning on the song “505” and closing my eyes. Once again I felt as though I was made of glass, a rock about to sail at me and shatter me into a million pieces."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: flashbacks, mention of torture, PTSD, Stockholm Syndrome, etc.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter everyone :)
> 
> (listen to the song Torches by X Ambassadors if you really want to feel it)

“They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.”  
-Andy Warhol

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

The next two days went relatively smoothly, some things effecting Reese more than others. The doctor was nice enough to give me the heads up that they were planning on discharging him the next day and that he could go home so long as someone was around to help him. I knew he was going to have a conversation with Reese and I, but I was happy he gave me the news first. It gave me time to prepare a few things. I pulled my phone out, starting to sort those things out. Reese was asleep so it gave me some time.

**_To: JJ Jareau, Penelope Garcia_ **

_**Me:** The doctor plans on discharging him tomorrow. He needs clothes. Can you go get him something? I can pay for it all._   
_**JJ** : Yeah. I just need his size._   
_**PG:** Of course. What JJ said^^^_   
_**Me:** Large in shirts, medium in pants. Get him two pairs of sweatpants and two shirts. Maybe a hoodie. Some socks, underwear, and some slides. Thank you._   
_**JJ:** No problem._   
_**PG** : Anything for you, dear Captain._

I raised my eyebrows, always a little flustered by Garcia and her nicknames for people. I was always willing to overlook it. She brought a little brightness to people’s worlds because she was more friendly. I could live with that. I _would_ live with that. I went to my contact list, hitting Jessica’s name and then number, bringing my phone to my ear.

“Hello?” Jessica asked, probably not paying attention to her screen and who was calling.

“Hey, Jessica. Is Jack around?” I asked.

“Oh, hey Aaron. Um… Jack is not around. I can get him if you need me to.”

“No. We’re coming home tomorrow but we might be late getting in because I have a bunch of work I have to handle. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Oh, alright. Be safe.”

“Always. Bye, Jessica.”

“Bye, Aaron.”

I slid the phone back in my pocket, looking at Reese. This time he was illuminated by the moonlight, his chest rising and falling evenly. He twitched a bit, shifting as he readjusted in his sleep and then he was still. I smiled, my smile thinning when I thought about how hard tomorrow was probably going to be for him. Strauss was going to be up his ass. She was going to be up my ass. _God damn politics. Ugh._

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

My eyes fluttered open, my mind still trying to claw itself back to sleep. I was morning when I woke up, so I had slept for a long time. Longer than normal, at least. Aaron was asleep himself, his neck bent in that way it shouldn’t be. I didn’t want to wake him up just yet, knowing that he hadn’t been sleeping well because of me. A pang of guilt washed over me, my mind trying to keep itself together and understand what we were here for. Sometimes I felt hollow, as though I was just a shell of a person. Sometimes I thought I was hallucinating and any second, I would wake up in that concrete room or in my childhood bedroom, that everything was simply a dream and the torture was going to continue.

I studied Aaron’s face, noting everything that I could see. Even in sleep, impassivity fell over him like a cloak, protecting his thoughts and emotions. While Aaron could mask his feelings well, his eyes always betrayed him. You could always tell what he was feeling by looking into his chocolate eyes. If you knew him, you could read him. Everyone always thought he was a brick wall that no one could ever get through, but I knew that wasn’t true. For him to be sitting here it couldn’t be true. Another pang of guilt welled up inside me, threatening to boil over. I felt like he was wasting his time on me. In all reality he could have anyone he wanted and yet here he was, trying to fix someone that was permanently broken. Trying to fix someone who was only good for being hurt. Used. Someone who was less.

I fell into thought, my mind going a million miles a minute it felt like. On a psychological level, I understood my thought process wasn’t healthy and I understood why I thought the way I did. I could understand the path of synapses and the cortexes and hemispheres of the brain. I could understand the difference of chemicals and why they were released… but I couldn’t understand all at the same time. I understood the intellectual concepts and could remove myself from them, but it was like that understanding disappeared the second I was injected into the equation. I didn’t understand it when it was applied to me. And I hated that. I hated feeling stupid but what did it matter? I was stupid. Incredibly stupid.

**_You’re not stupid, you’re a victim. Please, learn the difference. You are driving me up the god damn wall, here._ **

_Stop talking to me Benjamin. I didn’t ask for your opinion. No one wants your opinion. Just stop talking to me. Go away. Go the hell away._

**_Can you just be thankful? I managed to get you out of that concrete room and this is how you treat me? I’m only here because you’re too god damn weak to handle things yourself. Fucking pussy._ **

_SHUT THE FUCK UP! JUST SHUT UP!_

**_Admit you’re a coward. Then maybe I’ll leave you alone. Don’t come crying to me when you need protection. Fucking coward._ **

_Please just go away. Please. I just want you to stop talking. I want all these thoughts to go away. Please._

_**They never will. You know that. You’ve always known that. It really doesn’t matter what you want. It never mattered. And that’s exactly why you need me. I can handle things that you can’t. Just accept it. Accept this reality and move on.** _

I blinked, trying to get out of my own twisted mind. I noticed that Aaron was starting to stir, his eyes opening slowly as he shifted in his chair. I didn’t say anything.

_I’m allowed to talk right?_

_**YES! Dear god YES! Jesus. You act like someone is going to come in here and beat you half to death if you say good morning.** _

_Well, considering that has HAPPENED, I’m a bit unsure. Now fuck off, Benjamin._

_**Whatever, bitch boy.** _

I kept my mouth shut, watching him intently. It was usually him who was awake before me. It was kind of nice watching him sleep and wake up for once. I watched as he exhaled, his eyes opening and taking in his surroundings. He sat up straight, rolling his head and trying to work out the crick in his neck from sleeping in such a wonky position. His eyes then found mine, a small spark of passion burning underneath their surfaces. He grinned sleepily, realizing I had been staring at him the entire time. I blushed, looking away out of slight embarrassment when the thought that I was staring caught up with me.

“Well, well, well… good morning to you too, baby boy,” Aaron said teasingly.

“Good morning,” I greeted quietly, toying with my fingers in my lap. Aaron stood, yawning as he stretched out. He was still in his dress shirt and tie, his jacket draped over the back of his chair. He had been in that suit for three days. Three. I knew he was scared to leave me, and I was scared of him leaving. Our broken edges fit each other’s, and we were scared of breaking each other further. It was like I was some sort of glass house, a moment away from shattering completely. A moment away from shattering into a million tiny pieces that no one would ever be able to piece back together. People would tell me I was strong for going through everything I had been through in my life, but I didn’t think I was. I felt fragile. I felt like I was going to break and this time I wouldn’t survive it. This time it would kill me.

“How’d you sleep, baby?” he asked warmly. I shrugged. That seemed to be my response every time he asked. Sleep was slowly becoming something that trapped me in the dark. It begged me to let out that dark _thing_ inside me that I was afraid of. I was afraid of everything now. I was afraid, unsure of what was going to happen to me and how I was going to pick myself up again. Every thought I had contradicted the last, my mind split on how to handle everything going on around me.

I glanced down at my arms, examining the track marks that marred the crooks of my elbows. I looked at the burned and light bruises that were starting to go away as they healed.

_You deserve to be punished for all of this, you know. You were ungrateful. Ungrateful and disobedient. Stupid bitch._

_**“Christ, little one. You can’t seem to figure out what your purpose here is, can you? Looks like I’ll have to teach you. You won’t disobey me again after this. You’ll learn that you do everything because I allow you. I allow you to breathe. I allow you to sleep. Ungrateful slave. Get over here, pet. I’m going to teach you.”** _

_I blinked and I was back in that concrete room, everything around me dim and cold. So cold. Master had a barrel of water in the center of the room, his intentions clear._

**_“You heard me, little one! Get over here, or do you want a harsher punishment?”_ **

_I stood, slowly walking over to Master. He grabbed me by the collar, forcing my head down and into the water. It was freezing. My lungs filled with it, screaming for air. I thrashed, trying to get myself free to no avail. My eyes stung and then my head was back up, the split-second opportunity coming and going quickly. Then my head was back in the water. He held my head under until I saw black dots in my vision, a blackout being inevitable. I was pulled back out, coughing and spluttering as I tried to breathe._

_He did it again. And again. And again. I screamed under the water, begging for him to either stop or to just kill me._

Aaron’s hands were on me, trying to still me as I thrashed around on the bed, tears streaming down my face as I tried to figure out where the hell I was. “Reese… Reese, baby, you’re alright. He’s not here. He’s gone. Look at me! Look at me, sweetheart. It’s Aaron. You’re safe. I promise.” I shook my head, physically trying to shake off the memory. I looked up at him, my vision blurry from tears. “There he is… it’s ok. It’s gonna be ok. I’ve got you,” Aaron soothed. I went to hug him but stopped, scared he wouldn’t want me to. I just felt scared, paralyzed by my fear. Aaron wrapped his arms around me, and I resumed my movements, crying into his shirt. He stroked the back of my head, the tips of his fingers massaging my scalp. I don’t know how long I cried, but I cried until I physically couldn’t anymore.

A doctor came in, interrupting us. “I can come back in a few minutes if I need to,” he said softly. Aaron looked down at me in silent question. I shook my head, wiping at my eyes and then pulling away, looking at the doctor. The doctor gave me a sympathetic smile, although I could see the sorrow and unspoken emotions behind it. I really was a glass house. “I need to check your stitches and then discuss your discharge, Mr. Benson. So long as everything looks good and you can pass a psychological evaluation, you can go home, but you will be released into Mr. Hotchner’s care.”

I looked at Aaron and then nodded. That was fine with me. I didn’t want him to go away. I wanted to be with him, although I didn’t deserve to be. I deserved to be dead, but I kept that to myself for obvious reasons. “Do you want me to leave the room or stay?” Aaron asked. I didn’t want him to see my body, afraid he would hate what he saw. I hadn’t had the courage to look at myself in the bathroom mirror yet, so what would he think?

“C-Could you s-step out for a minute, please?” I asked, fear coiling around me like a snake ready to strike. He nodded and then exited, no doubt standing right outside. The doctor smiled and came over to me.

“Lift up, please.” I did as he asked, giving him access to my chest and stomach. I looked away, not willing to look at myself. I didn’t want to look at what I might find. I felt shame come over me like a plague. After a moment he was done, letting me readjust and cover myself again. “Looks good. Do you want me to let Mr. Hotchner back in the room? We’ll be discussing your discharge,” he said, looking at me expectantly. I just nodded and he went back over to the door, letting Aaron back in the room. Aaron immediately came to my side, interlacing his fingers with mine, his thumb stroking over the top of my hand soothingly.

“Everything looks just fine. He can continue healing at home but absolutely no strenuous activity. I mean none until his stitches heal fully. We will give you a prescription for some light pain killers, so you won’t be in excruciating pain the entire time. You’ll just feel a bit sore. Eating has seemed to bring on some concern, but not much. You came in calory deficient and you are underweight for your height, but we understand the lack of willingness to eat because of the bruising in your throat. If this continues to be an issue, go see a doctor and they can prescribe some eating stimulants. For now, just eat things that are easy to swallow and try to get your calories in. Besides the psychological evaluation, I have nothing more. Once I get word that you passed, I will get you the paperwork for discharge and you will be free to go. Any questions?”

I looked at Aaron and then the doctor, shaking my head. Aaron didn’t have any either. “I will get the psychologist to come see you and then you all can get out of here. And Mr. Benson…” the doctor said.

“Yes?” I squeaked, scared of what he was going to say next.

“You will get through this. Thank you, gentleman.” And with that he was gone, leaving me with a skeptical look on my face. A few seconds later there was a knock on the door. Aaron told them to come in and JJ stepped in, a duffle bag her hand.

“We got you some clothes,” JJ said, handing me the black Adidas duffle bag. I took it from her, sitting it in my lap and unzipping it, finding clothes in my size. One pair of black Nike sweatpants and a gray pair. There was some Hanes socks and underwear in my size, as well as two short sleeved t-shirts, two long sleeved t-shirts and a navy-blue hoodie with a small swoosh on the right chest. There was a pair of slides in the bottom of the bag and a smaller toiletry bag. I took out the toiletry bag, unzipping it and finding a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, a shaving razor, deodorant, and travel bottles of conditioner, shampoo, body wash, shaving cream, and after shave.

Yet again, I thought I was going to cry. “Thank you. I haven’t had actual clothes and toiletries and stuff in five months,” I said quietly, smiling down at the myriad of items in my lap.

JJ smiled. “You’re welcome. Hotch told us your size so we got you the clothes. We thought you might want to clean up, so we got you toiletries. I guessed what you might like,” JJ said, motioning to everything. I rubbed at my eyes and shook my head.

“Ok. I’m not dreaming,” I murmured, making the other two laugh. I packed everything back up so I could take it into the bathroom. I tossed the bag down to the end of the bed so I could stand up, using Aaron to help myself stand without hurting too much. JJ left, leaving the two of us alone together. I took the toiletry bag in my hands, stacking clothes over my forearm to take into the bathroom. This was going to be my first shower in a long time. I picked up the black sweatpants, a light gray short sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of navy-blue boxers. I walked into the bathroom, flicking the light switch and setting everything down. I dug through the toiletry bag and found the toothpaste and toothbrush, brushing my teeth but avoiding myself in the mirror. I didn’t want to see myself. I didn’t want to see how bad I looked.

Aaron came over, leaning into the door jam and watching me. I spit the toothpaste out and rinsed my mouth out, putting everything back in the bag and then turning on the water for the shower. I found a towel on the hook next to the shower already. “Do you need any help?” Aaron asked.

“I might. I don’t know yet, to be honest. I just don’t want to get my stitches too wet,” I said and then paused, looking at him with a furrowed brow, “I am allowed to shower right? I d-didn’t ask… s-sorry, sir.”

His face fell for a second, but he regained his composure quickly, hiding behind an impassive mask. “Yes, you are allowed to shower. Just tell me if you need help,” he said, giving me a small smile. I nodded, reaching behind me and taking off the hospital gown, now completely nude. I stepped into the shower, the warm water hitting me and making me groan. I wetted my hair, reaching out and picking up the shampoo and lathering my hair in it. I washed it out, mindful to avoid getting my stitched wet as the water coursed over me. I repeated the process with the conditioner, letting it sit in my hair while I washed my entire body in Irish Spring. I washed it off and then rinsed the conditioner out, turning off the water and reaching for the towel to dry myself off.

I got dry quickly and then got dressed, reveling in the feeling of clothing that was my size that didn’t belong to someone else. These were mine. Mine.

_You don’t fucking deserve clothes, bitch. Property doesn’t deserve anything. Especially after what you did. Pathetic fucking slut._

I pushed past that thought, dressing myself quickly and then combing my hair, letting it air dry. It was longer than I liked it, noting that if I could, I would get it cut. I also opted not to shave, mostly because that required the use of a mirror. I put on deodorant and then put everything back in the toiletry bag, stepping out of the bathroom to find Aaron in his chair, looking at his phone. He looked up when I stepped out, smiling at the sight of me. “Feel better?” he asked.

I nodded enthusiastically, dropping the bag on the bed and walking over to him. “Thank you. I…” I trailed off, scared to say what I wanted to say. _Don’t speak unless spoken to. Follow orders, be grateful for what you are given._

“You can say it, baby boy,” Aaron reassured, a smile ghosting his lips.

“I love you,” I whispered.

He smiled, pushing himself up and giving me a chaste kiss on the lips. “I love you too, baby boy. Very much,” he said firmly, as though that was never going to change. It would, once he realized what I was. He would leave once he realized that I was worthless. Nothing. I was broken and useless. I walked over to the small table under the TV, picking up the iPod and headphones, putting them over my ears and turning the device on. I scrolled through the library again, trying to decide on what to listen to. I smiled to myself, playing the song “I Wanna Be Yours” by the Arctic Monkeys, memories of having sex with Aaron on my old couch coming to mind. The memory felt bittersweet and old, as though it had happened years ago rather than six months ago.

I stuck the iPod in my pocket, humming as I went over to the bed and carefully sat on the edge of it, grimacing as I moved. I dug around the duffle bag, finding a pair of black socks and putting them on slowly. Leaning down wasn’t very fun when you had stitches. I packed the toiletry bag back in the duffle bag and then took the slides out so I could zip the bag up fully. After that I just looked out the window, watching the outside world as the song played in my ears.

I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder, Aaron standing next to me. I slid the headphones off my ears, perking up as I waited for him to say something. “What are you listening to?” he asked, a genuine curiosity about the question.

“Arctic Monkeys. I Wanna Be Yours. It’s the song I played in my apartment before I came to live in your apartment,” I replied, humming the tune. I mentally said fuck it, starting to sing the lyrics out loud. “If you like coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots, babe… I just wanna be yours. Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide then I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours…”

Aaron smiled, closing his eyes for a moment. “You have a good voice,” he murmured.

I shrugged. “It’s alright,” I said quietly, not wanting to upset him because I disagreed. But it didn’t matter. My opinion didn’t matter. I didn’t matter. Nothing about me really mattered. A knock on the door brought us out of our bubble, making us look back at the door. A man was standing there with a clipboard. The psychologist.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said as he crossed the threshold of the door into the room, “I’m Dr. Richards. I need to conduct Mr. Benson’s psych eval so he can be discharged.”

“Do I need to step out or can I stay? I’m his significant other,” Aaron asked, falling into his dominant position as a leader.

“You can stay. This should be brief,” Richards said, coming closer. I turned the music off, turning my focus to him. He was African American, about 6 foot and balding, glasses on his face. He was in an orange and navy button up, a white overcoat thrown over it and a navy tie around his neck. He took Aaron’s chair, taking a pen out of his pocket and clicking it, looking at me. “I just need to ask you a few questions. Answer honestly, please, Mr. Benson,” he instructed.

“Ok,” I said, my voice small. In a way I felt small.

“Do you currently wish to harm yourself or others?” he asked, eyeing me with narrowed eyes as he gauged my response.

I shook my head, narrowing my own eyes as I thought about it. “Mm… no,” I responded quietly.

He wrote something down and then asked another question, “do you currently wish to kill yourself or have a plan to kill yourself?”

I shook my head no again, “no.”

“Have you harmed yourself in the past year?”

I swallowed. “Yes, but I was seeing a psychiatrist at the time to stop the habit. I will continue seeing a psychiatrist once I leave here,” I said firmly, trying to be professional about an extremely personal question.

“Does your family have a history of mental illness?”

“No.”

“Do you feel hopeless or otherwise numb about yourself and the future?”

“No.”

“Have you had nightmares, outbursts of emotions at random, or flashbacks about past events?”

“Yes, but I was seeing a psychiatrist at the time to manage them. I was experiencing an onset of acute PTSD and working to start a treatment plan.”

“Alright. I will get these to Doctor Evans and then you can start your discharge paperwork. Mr. Hotchner, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak to you,” Richards said, both men exiting the room to have a conversation. I didn’t like how that sounded, anxiety settling in my gut. I put my headphones back on, turning on the song “505” and closing my eyes. Once again I felt as though I was made of glass, a rock about to sail at me and shatter me into a million pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	13. Broken Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I shook my head, blinking furiously and then checking my surroundings. My eyes found the team, each of them looking at me wide eyed and mouths agape. I paled, anger surging inside me as shame washed over me. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture, flashbacks, intrusive thoughts, etc.
> 
> Idek. Enjoy.

“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”  
-Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

Evans gave me the discharge paperwork, instructing me to sign and fill everything out and then give it to the receptionist at the front desk. Then I was free to leave. I took a pen, filling everything out and signing what seemed like an endless amount of paperwork. Once I had everything filled out, I stuck it in the manila folder, looking at Aaron in silent question of what to do next. I didn’t know the plan or what was really going on. All I knew was that we were leaving the hospital.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart,” Aaron said, seemingly relieved himself to be leaving the hospital. He looked almost as relieved as me in all honesty. I laughed to myself, finding the word ‘home’ funny. I didn’t have a home. For me there was no such thing as home. I nodded, standing awkwardly out of the way as he shrugged into his jacket. He looked disheveled; his raven colored hair tousled from him running his hands through it. He picked up my bag, motioning me out the door and walking next to me down the hall. We were silent as we walked, stopping at the front desk and giving them the paperwork. Once they told me I was free to go I followed Aaron out to the front door, bumping into Sam who was on her way in.

“Have a safe trip home, Reese,” she said, making her way past us with a smile on her face. I just nodded politely and kept walking, fidgeting with the wire of my headphones. Aaron guided me to a black SUV, ushering me into the passenger seat. I got in while he threw my bag in the backseat and then got in the driver’s seat.

“We’re going to the hotel first. I need to shower and change clothes and we have two hours before we need to be on the plane,” Aaron said, as though I was going to question anything that was going on.

_**“Don’t speak unless spoken to, pet. Show Master some respect.”** _

I gave a small nod of understanding, slipping the headphones over my ears as he put the car into drive. I scrolled through the library, trying to find a song that fit my mood. I settled on ‘Torches’ by X Ambassadors. I didn’t necessarily think the words fit my mood, but I liked the music itself. The sound of the song is what I enjoyed. I looked at the window, watching the buildings pass by us as we drove. The drive was only ten minutes, but I still enjoyed watching the scenery.

We pulled into the parking lot of a hotel, Aaron shifting the gear and putting the car into park and then turning it off. He sighed, opening the door and stepping out. I hesitated, unsure of what I was allowed to do or not. I didn’t want anyone to get mad. I didn’t want to break the rules. I didn’t want to be disobedient. Aaron opened the door for me, jerking his head in the direction of the hotel. “Come on, baby boy,” he ordered. I stepped out and looked around, taking in the feeling of fresh air. Aaron grabbed my bag and then took my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine and walking next to me as we entered the Marriott.

I noticed people staring at us, but I couldn’t tell if that was because of me or because I was sharing an intimate gesture with another man. I tried to ignore them, insecurity panging in my chest. I started to shake, panicking for no reason. I thought my legs were going to give out from underneath me. When we got into the elevator Aaron hit the button for our floor and then pulled me into his side, securing me to him and resting his lips on the top of my head, trying to calm me down. “It’s alright, baby. You’re safe. Nothings going to happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he cooed, making me relax a little. Not much, though.

He made the trip to his room quick, getting me into a room and away from other people’s prying eyes. He tossed my bag across the room, pulling me into his arms and holding me while I tried to calm down. I felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. I wasn’t supposed to be free. I didn’t deserve freedom. I was supposed to be locked in a room where I could serve my purpose. My chest tightened as panic took over my body, swallowing it whole. This time my legs did give out, but Aaron held me to him, not letting me crumple to the ground. He basically drug me to the bed, depositing me on it and laying next to me, pulling me into his chest to hide. He managed to get the headphones out from around my neck, leaning back so he could set them on the nightstand with the iPod.

“Just breathe, baby boy. Deep breaths, ok? In and out slowly. It’s alright. It’s going to be alright. You’re so strong, baby, so, so incredibly strong. You’ll get through this, just calm down. That’s it, deep breath in.” I clung onto Aaron for dear life, scared he was going to disappear, and I would open my eyes to concrete and dimness and coldness. I didn’t want him to slip through my fingers like sand. He laid with me for a while, letting me calm down and just hold onto him, occasionally offering words of praise or encouragement, but mostly letting me cling to him. I felt my eyelids getting heavy, my brain exhausted from constantly fighting with itself and all the events of the day.

“Can I sleep?” I whispered, bracing for reprimand or for sudden harshness. I didn’t understand why I was scared, only that I was.

“Yeah… let’s get up so you can get under the covers. I can turn the TV on, or you can listen to music,” he murmured softly. I nodded, letting go of him and standing up, kicking the slides off my feet. He pulled the sheets back, stepping out of the way so I could slip under them. I got into the bed, pulling the sheets over me and tucking myself into a ball, closing my eyes. Aaron kissed my temple, “sleep well, baby boy. I’m going to take a shower while you sleep.”

“Ok,” I mumbled sleepily, listening to him go around the room as he collected his own things. Then there was noise, the sound of the TV filling the room. Then a door shut, and water was running. I didn’t focus on it for long, though, my mind chasing after its dreams and falling into unconsciousness.

* * *

A sharp knock on the door roused me from sleep, although I kept my eyes closed, trying to ignore it. I felt the bed move, Aaron grumbled something to himself as he went to answer the door. I registered the voice at the door as David Rossi’s. “We were wondering where you were. We need to get down to the airstrip if we want to take off on time.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I fell asleep after I took a shower. I’ll wake Reese up.”

“How is he?”

“He’s as expected. He definitely has Stockholm syndrome and the psychologist that did his psych eval said that one of the first things I need to do is schedule an appointment with his psychiatrist. He’s displaying signs of PTSD, which we knew he would. He had a panic attack but luckily that happened when we got into the room. It could be worse, though. He’s asleep right now.”

“Well, wake the kid up and then we can go home.”

“Ok. We’ll be down in five minutes.”

The door closed and after a few moments the bed dipped, Aaron’s fingers running through my hair. “Wake up, baby boy. We have to get to the airstrip,” Aaron ordered softly, shaking me gently. I opened my eyes, peering up at him. He had a small smile on his face, his chocolate eyes warm and inviting. I exhaled softly, still feeling sleepy despite all the sleep I had gotten in the last four days. He pulled the covers back and I swung my legs, sitting on the edge of the bed. I scrubbed at my eyes, looking around for the slides and then putting them on. I walked over where my duffle bag sit on the floor, leaning down slowly and picking it up. I winced and then put it on the bed, unzipping it and digging around for the hoodie. I zipped the bag and then put the hoodie on, grimacing a little from all the soreness in my abdomen.

When I turned around Aaron was standing behind me, trying his best not to smile or laugh. I just blinked, confused as to what was funny but not commenting on anything. I felt safest not talking. Aaron came over, picking up my bag. “Go get your headphones and your iPod. Then we can get out of here.” I did as I was told, putting the headphones around my neck, sticking the iPod in my pocket and then waiting for another command. Aaron entered a code into the hotel provided safe, taking out his gun and holstering it and then picking up his own bag, looking at me. “Let’s go.”

We exited the room, walking to the bank of elevators and waiting, stepping into the first available elevator which was empty, thank god. I felt nervous around people now. They made me feel… wrong and out of place, like everyone was telling me with their eyes that I wasn’t meant to be here. That made all the feelings inside me worse. Made them more intense and harder to handle. I was nervous I was going to accidently let go and Benjamin would take my place, ruining my life before I really got it back. The itch to cut came back, but a sick feeling of shame curled around the thought.

_No one wants damaged property. Master is the only one who gets to mark you, you know that. The audacity of you thinking you are your own person. You’re an object. A piece of property. Less. Worthless. Stupid. Weak. Pathetic. Disgusting. Disobedient._

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, making my eyes snap open and face the lobby full of people ahead. We walked to the team, all of whom were making small talk with each other.

“Glad you could finally join us,” Emily joked. I didn’t pay much attention to her, my eyes focused on the other people in the lobby, thinking about what they thought of me. Did they see what I saw? Did they think what I thought? Were they disgusted like me? Those questions filled my head, the others voices apparent as they spoke, but I still didn’t pay attention to what they were actually talking about. Then everyone was walking, me following at Aaron’s side like a damn dog. That made a twinge of anger flair inside me, staying ever present in the back of my mind.

Everyone piled into SUVs, Aaron and I in one with Reid and JJ in the back, the others getting into another. Aaron drove while I listened to music, trying to calm myself down. I tapped my fingers against my leg restlessly, unable to stop myself from fidgeting. I felt nervous, waiting for the hat to drop any second and for violence to break out. Things always went bad. Always. I spaced out, dissociating in an attempt to shield myself from the world around me. I don’t know how long that lasted, my mind snapping into reality yet again when Aaron tapped me on the shoulder and told me we were at the airstrip. I looked at the window, looking directly at the jet. I wanted to smile but refrained from doing so, not giving anything away.

I looked back at Aaron, silently asking him if I could open the door and get out of the car. He nodded; his face impassive but concern swimming in his deep brown irises. I opened the door with shaky fingers, stepping out into the warm air. I felt out of place being in sweats while everyone was in their work clothes. I waited in front of my door, scared to do anything without being told to. I was still slave to my fear, slave to my brokenness. Slave to my master. I rubbed my eyes, a headache building as my stress built. “Come on, baby,” Aaron said, walking in front of me with our bags towards the stairs of the jet. I followed, using the railing to help me not die from simply walking up the stairs. I hated feeling physically weak. It enforced my mental weakness.

I stood in the entrance, taking the seat Aaron pointed to and sitting down, my body positioned next to the window, Aaron slipping into the seat next to me. JJ told the pilots we were ready for take off and within minutes we were in the air. I looked down, scrolling through my library and then playing the song “Achilles, Come Down” by Gang of Youths. It was a beautiful story, two voices speaking to the Greek figure Achilles. It was backed up by violins and it made the song even more beautiful. My eyes closed, my body sinking into darkness for a few moments. I then opened my eyes, looking over to the couch which had been left vacant. I assumed it was left vacant so I could sleep there, but I was nervous to ask if I could sleep there.

I glanced to look at Aaron, who was looking at paperwork, pen in his hand. “What is it, Reese?” he asked without looking up. My eyes flicked across to the couch and then back to him, somewhat stunned he knew I was looking at him. “Yes, you can go sleep on the couch,” he said after a moment, stopping what he was doing and standing so I could move.

“T-Thank you, sir,” I murmured quietly.

“Of course,” he said sweetly, sitting back down once I was out of my seat. I walked over to the couch, standing in front of it in awe for a moment. I took a second before laying down, whipping the hoodie over my head and then laying down, balling the hoodie up and using it as a pillow. I put the song on repeat, sinking into my dreams to the story of Achilles and extraordinary violins.

* * *

_***3 Months Earlier*** _

_Master entered the concrete room, his eyes on me as I kneeled on the concrete floor. The concrete was cold. Colder than normal. The seasons must have been changing. Maybe. There was the sound of footsteps moving around the room, another person entering the room behind Master. The stench of cigarette smoke teased my nostrils, but I didn’t let my confusion show. I stayed perfectly impassive, perfectly emotionless, perfectly obedient._

_“Little one, be polite and say hello to our guest,” Master commanded._

_I looked up, addressing the man who had a cigarette in his mouth. “Hello, sir.” The man said nothing, smirking at me wickedly. I didn’t like that, but it didn’t matter. My opinion didn’t matter here. I was less. I was a slave, an object to be used at any given moment._

_Master smiled, glancing at the man with pride written all over his face. He then looked back at me, stepping towards me. My eyes shot to the floor out of respect and submission. He chuckled, the sound smooth and dark, a shiver running up my spine. My heart was beating a million miles a minute, threatening to come out of my skin. “You are going to do everything our guest asks of you little one. I owe him and you are his payment for the next hour. If you are disobedient, I will punish you. You don’t want that, do you, pet?” Master asked, a hint of arrogance in his tone._

_“No Master, “ I answered, my voice quiet and submissive._

_“Such a good little slave. Now be good. Do everything he says,” Master ordered, leaving me alone with this mystery man._

_The man came over to me, no doubt inspecting me. “Stand up, slut.” I stood immediately, hands at my sides, my eyes still downcast. “Look at me, bitch. I want to see your eyes.” I looked up, my eyes locking on the other man’s. He removed the cigarette from his mouth, playing with it right in front of my face and then pressing it to my chest, making me let out a labored breath from pain. “Scream, bitch. I love making brainless little sluts scream.” He took a lighter from his pocket and set the paper on fire again, pressing it to my skin. I screamed this time, the burning sensation taking me over._

_He repeated this a few more times, finally stopping when he was practically panting from arousal. He grabbed me by the hair, dragging me over to the bed and tossing me on it like I was trash. He grabbed my hair again, yanking me back, my head hanging over the edge of the bed. He let go, fumbling with his belt and pants, yanking them down and taking out his dick. “Open up, whore.” I opened my mouth and then his cock was down my throat, choking me._

_I screamed, begging the man to stop. There were hands on me, and I clawed at them, my eyes revealing light by my mind trapped in my nightmare. There were voices but I couldn’t make them out. There was a clear voice and I became more panicked, my mind trapped in the concrete hell. I scrambled to move, moving to the floor and sinking to my knees, my eyes opening and focusing on the carpeted floor, my hands resting on my thighs. “I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry. I’ll be obedient. Please. I’m sorry,” I begged shamelessly, fear gripping me in its jaws and threatening to eat me alive._

* * *

“No, no, no, baby. It’s Aaron. He’s not here. You’re safe. Look around… you’re on the jet, sweetheart. The team is here. Look.”

I shook my head, blinking furiously and then checking my surroundings. My eyes found the team, each of them looking at me wide eyed and mouths agape. I paled, anger surging inside me as shame washed over me. “Get off the floor. Come on,” Aaron instructed, helping me to my feet. I stood there, seeing red. I was so angry and confused and broken. I needed to cut. I needed to get away. I needed to get control of myself and figure all of this out.

“I need a moment,” I whispered, and Aaron nodded. I walked down the aisle, avoiding everyone’s eyes and locking myself in the small bathroom. I turned, looking at myself in the mirror for the first time and hating what I saw. There were dark circles under my eyes, bruises covering my neck and showing off some of the torture. My hair was long and fell into my face, disheveled and soaked in sweat. My eyes were angry, my face finally displaying my emotional state. I couldn’t contain my anger anymore, my hatred of my image flinging me over the edge.

 **“GOD DAMN SON OF A BITCH!”** I yelled at my reflection in anger, my fist thrusting forward impulsively and shattering some of the glass of the mirror. I pulled my fist back, yelling again, **“FUCKING WORTHLESS BITCH. GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”**

I struck the glass again and again, glass flying and scattering atop the porcelain of the sink and all over the floor, my fist dripping blood. Blood dripped off the wall from the force of my punches, the mirror completely destroyed, the remnants of it laying around me. I sunk to far corner of the room, blindly picking up a piece of glass and taking it to my skin, cutting below my wrist and cutting cautiously so I wouldn’t bleed to death. I watched, mesmerized by the way the crimson blood bubbled out of the cuts and dripped down my arm, splattering on the floor and drying there. It was hypnotizing, euphoria releasing inside me as I took in my high. The anger finally subsided, my eyes closing as my head fell back and hit the wall.

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

I took my seat as Reese excused himself, walking past me to have a moment in the small bathroom. I picked up my pen, looking down at my paperwork. Then I heard Reese scream in anger, cursing someone. “GOD DAMN SON OF A BITCH!” Then there was a loud thud and a sound of something shattered. And then it happened again, more yelling making me, and Morgan stand and move down the aisle. “FUCKING WORTHLESS BITCH. GOD FUCKING DAMN IT.” It happened a few more times and then stopped, noise ceasing from inside the small room.

I paused outside the doorway, raising the projection of my voice and knocking on the wooden door, “Reese? Are you alright?” I knew the answer was no, but I didn’t want to just burst through the door and make him panic more.

No answer.

“Reese? Kid?” Morgan tried, looking at me with immense concern.

Silence.

“Reese open the door or tell us you’re alright or we will come in,” I warned loudly, becoming more worried by the second. He was hurting himself. I knew it.

No answer. No movement.

“Morgan,” I said, telling him in one word to break down the door. He forced it in, stopping when he saw the inside of the room. There was glass all over the floor and sink, blood on some of the wall and all over the floor. Reese was in a corner of the room, a bloody shard of glass in his hand, blood dripping down his forearm and onto the floor. His head was against the wall, his chest rising and falling quickly as he took in air. He opened his eyes, looking at me with a broken, desolate eyes. I rushed over to him, taking the glass from his hand and throwing it into the pile of shards before us. “Get off the floor, sweetheart,” I ordered, helping him up and then practically dragging him from the room.

“Morgan, get the first aid kit,” I called back behind me, the sound of cabinet doors opening telling me I really didn’t need to tell him twice. I sat him down in my seat, taking the first aid kit and setting it on the table, unzipping it and finding some gauze. I pressed it to his knuckles, making him wince but other than that he remained emotionless. He was covered in blood, small cuts from where flying glass grazed his arms welling with blood and dripping down him. He seemed to pay it no mind. “Reese, why did you do that?” I asked sternly, making him snap out of his trance. He looked at his arm and around him and then up at me, wide eyed and fearful, his arm starting to shake.

I wasn’t angry at him; I was angry at myself. He was volatile and gave him opportunity to harm himself. He opened his mouth, trying to find what I wanted to hear but struggling. “I-I… I’m s-s-sorry, si-sir. I’m sorry. P-Please… I…” he stuttered, his voice dying out as he broke down more, “I was disobedient. I’m s-sorry. Pl-please… don’t h-hurt me. I w-won’t do it anymore.”

He was pleading with me. _Begging_ me. He was scared of punishment. He thought I was going to punish him. Worse, he thought I was going to leave him. He thought we were disgusted by him. I softened at that, my heart aching for my boy. “No, baby boy, no. I’m not going to hurt you. No one’s going to hurt you. You weren’t disobedient. I just want to know why you did that,” I explained, my voice gentle as though I was comforting a child.

There were tears in his eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks. “I j-just… I was mad,” he said, not offering more than that.

“Why?” Reid asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

Reese swallowed, looking at his lap as I continued to clean him up. “I… I’m disgusting. I’m fucking disgusting and worthless and you saw…” he said, trailing off as anger rose in his voice again.

“Morgan, help me out here, will you?” I asked, taking out alcohol pads and wiping the blood off him. Morgan came over, starting to bandage his hand while I worked on cleaning and bandaging the four cuts he gave himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, clearly ashamed of himself.

I looked at him in the eyes, seeing the brokenness in his eyes and the fear lingering under the surface. “No one is mad at you. No need to be sorry. The next time you feel upset, come to me and talk to me. Please,” I said.

“Yes s-sir,” he whispered, giving me a small nod of understanding, his gray eyes darting away out of shame. I started packing up the first aid kit and throwing away all the bloody gauze and alcohol pads, stopping by the bathroom and sighing. Strauss was going to be pissed when I told her about this. It didn’t matter. I would protect my boy’s honor. He was lost and incredibly broken, understandably so.

I came back and Reese was back on the couch, biting his fingernails and overthinking. I sat back down, trying to give him space. After a few minutes he looked up, eyeing everyone, something crossing his face. He wanted something but was too scared to voice his wants. “Reese, what is it?” I asked.

He scratched the back of his neck and blinked rapidly. “Um… does anyone have an extra pen and some paper?” he asked, looking around at everyone. Reid opened his messenger bag and offered up both. He took them, giving a small ‘thanks’ and then sitting back down, scribbling something down. After a few minutes he started humming, pausing every once in a while, and then continuing to write. Morgan got up, approaching him with some caution and then sitting next to him, looking at what he was doing.

“What are you doing, kid?” Morgan asked, watching him write.

Reese didn’t look up when he replied, “writing. Song lyrics. I, um, write music when I get stressed. I don’t know. I can hear music in my head sometimes and then I write lyrics to go with the chords I imagine in my head.”

Morgan nodded, reading the lyrics. “So… what does this one sound like?” Morgan asked, raising a brow.

Reese clicked the pen, swallowing nervously. “Um… it sounds like the song ‘Achilles, Come Down’ but with an acoustic guitar rather than violins. It also kind of mixes with another song called ‘Lost Boy’,” Reese explained.

Morgan’s brow furrowed, confusion written on his face, “never heard of it. How does it go?”

“W-What?”

“How does it go? I’m interested.”

Reese hesitated, biting his bottom lip and then giving in. He tapped his fingers in time, nodding as he thought of the music in his head and then to my surprise started singing the lyrics rather than just humming as he had been or giving Morgan his headphones to listen to the song.

“I remember the day my dad’s soul hit the floor,  
He got up from the table and walked to the door,  
Telling himself ‘I can’t do this no more.’  
And when he came back, the whiskey in his hands,  
That was the day he became less of a man.  
That was the day he learned of his mortality,  
His one and only son, his final fatality.  
The boy ran off, his heart split in two,  
A dam breaking open, his mind on the loose.  
And when he returned, the boy fell to the floor,  
Whispering he couldn’t do this no more,  
Oh, whispering he couldn’t do this no more.  
But with all he had left and all of his might,  
He picked up the pieces and continued his fight.  
Telling himself with a knife in his hands,  
‘I will never be less of a man.’  
The boy was tormented, a crown made of thorns,  
So often he and his despair did it adorn.  
He found himself crying, his tears filled with rage,  
The dark soul left inside him clawing at its cage.  
And as the boy grew, his mind began to tear,  
He thoughts growing colder as he sat in despair.  
But one night the moonlight, it began to dance,  
Across the cold knife that he held in his hands.  
And with that he made to himself one final vow,  
That he would be stronger than his father somehow.  
And with that last sentiment, his heart tore in two,  
The dam breaking open, his mind on the loose.  
And with a last cry, he sunk to the floor,  
Whispering he couldn’t do this no more,  
Oh, whispering he couldn’t do this no more,  
Whispering he couldn’t do this no more.”

Everyone was staring at him, mouths slightly agape, Garcia had tears in her eyes. Everyone looked stunned. Reese looked up, paling when he realized we were all staring. He blushed, his face beet red as he stuttered out apologies, “s-sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb everyone.”

“That was…” Reid started, trying to find the words but Emily finished his sentence for him.

“Beautiful.”

And I agreed, finding the lyrics true and majestic in a way. They reflected a broken soul, fighting to stay strong and not to sink into the depths of darkness and hopelessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at writing song lyrics and describing how I hear music, sorry if I nearly killed you with how bad it is. Anyways, thanks for reading :)


	14. Primitive Submission, Vengeful Dominance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My mind wrestled with itself, one part saying I should continue kneeling, the other telling me that part of my life was over and I needed to get off the carpeted floor of the plane. Fear worked its way up my spine slowly, trapping me in a web like spider traps prey. I kept myself perfectly still as the internal battle was waged, more pieces of my mind falling to the floor and shattering, the pieces quickly overtaken by the dark shadows of my thoughts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Stockholm syndrome, intrusive thoughts, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, D.I.D, etc. 
> 
> *Listen to Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier while reading for the full effect.*
> 
> This is easily one of my favorite chapters I've written. I think I got the balance right and the tone right based off the song. Enjoy! :)

“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.”  
-Mahatma Gandhi

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

I looked up from the pad of paper in my lap, fidgeting with the pen in my hand. I looked up to find everyone staring at me, mouths slightly agape. They had been listening to me sing. I felt my face heat up, my eyes darting away as I scrambled to apologize. I had interrupted everyone. “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb anyone,” I said, looking back down at the paper and trying not to feel ridiculously embarrassed.

“That was…”

“Beautiful.”

I looked up in surprise, furrowing my brow. The lyrics and my voice weren’t anything special. It was just a song. Something I couldn’t get out of my head. Something that reflected my anger and my life. I looked back down, staring blankly at the piece of paper covered in blue ink and hate-filled words. Another surge of anger coursed through my veins, my mind fighting itself as it struggled to find an opinion and the words to match. I switched the song on my iPod, deciding to listen to something different. I didn’t want to listen to the chords in my head anymore. I didn’t want to imagine the music right now. It was unsettling and leading to something filled with rage and hate and disgust.

I switched to the song ‘Take Me to Church’ by Hozier, opting for religious semblance rather than something about the voices in people’s heads. I closed my eyes, trying to take in a deep breath and get control over myself. I didn’t want to risk switching personalities. Benjamin was lurking dangerously close under the surface, ready to rear his ugly head any waking moment. I just wanted all of this to go away. All of it. I just wanted all the hazy clouds of misfortune and pain to float away for a few minutes. I didn’t want this glorification of my trauma as some amazing story or beautiful piece of art. It wasn’t beautiful nor did it show strength. It showed cruelty and weakness and the desolation of my soul. I wanted it all to go away. All of it. I didn’t want it anymore.

The vocals and bass guitar faded to the back of my conscious, my brain dissociating from reality in order to protect itself. I was scared of what I might do. I was scared of my mind yet scared of the world around me. There was no safe place for me anymore. Safety was no longer something that I was concerned with, either. If I died, I died. If I got hurt, I got hurt. Who the hell cared anymore? I didn’t have the capacity to care about myself anymore. I was nothing. I was worth nothing. I was broken beyond repair, making all my hope scarce. There was no such thing as hope for me anymore. I should have let myself bleed to death on that concrete floor. I shouldn’t have killed Master. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t deserve to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was out of place; a slave among freeman.

Someone shaking me snapped me out of my dissociative state, making me blink rapidly. I still felt angry. I still felt enraged. I just felt off, but every emotion felt off to me now. Everything was wrong. Everything was one confusing contradiction after another; one taunt at my enslavement after another. I looked to see what was going on, my mind immediately realizing what I had done and my body moving before I could fully catch up to what I was thinking. I ripped the headphones off, leaving them next to where I was sitting and then sliding off the couch, sinking to my knees with my head bowed, my gaze falling onto someone’s shoes. They were matte black dress shoes. Aaron’s shoes.

“No, no, no, Reese… come on. Get off the floor. We’re about to land and you need to move seats… you didn’t do anything wrong…” Aaron said quickly, panic apparent in his voice.

_**“You serve me and me alone, pet. You’ll learn that soon enough. I own you.”** _

My loyalty felt broken, my mind confused as to who I should listen to. I stayed put on the floor, my Stockholm Syndrome seizing me.

_You only serve Master. He was good to you. He deserves your loyalty. Stay where you are. Follow the rules. Follow the rules. Follow the rules. Follow the rules._

“Reese, can you hear me? I need you to get off the floor,” Aaron said again, reiterating what he wanted. Again I didn’t move, my body staying planted firmly where I was. I could feel the tension reverberating off the walls of the plane, everyone strung tight with sudden stress. All because of me. This was all because of me. My mind wrestled with itself, one part saying I should continue kneeling, the other telling me that part of my life was over and I needed to get off the carpeted floor of the plane. Fear worked its way up my spine slowly, trapping me in a web like spider traps prey. I kept myself perfectly still as the internal battle was waged, more pieces of my mind falling to the floor and shattering, the pieces quickly overtaken by the dark shadows of my thoughts.

I heard Aaron sigh, the sigh one of extreme sorrow and discontentment. “You might want to look away,” he said aloud, talking to the team. I tensed, bracing for physical violence. Bracing for the sudden sting across my face. Bracing for coldness and sadistic pleasure at my expense. His hand snaked down, two fingers rested under my chin, forcing my head up to meet the gaze of stern and steely brown eyes; eyes that told anyone who looked into them not to test them, not to fight. Fear coiled in my gut, that tight steel band working its way around my chest and squeezing like a boa constrictor, constricting until my breathing was shallow and quick, my fear turning into adrenaline as my body and mind worked quickly to force itself into a state of primitive survival.

Aaron’s face was rigid, the planes of his face marred with a glare that came so naturally to him. And that glare was aimed directly at me. His discontentment and frustration and building agitation was all because of me and now I would be forced to deal with the fall out. Aaron leaned down, his face inches from mine, his eyes remaining hard as he looked at me. “Reese, I told you to get off the floor. Now. It wasn’t a request, nor was it a suggestion. Do you understand me?” he asked, a coldness seeping into his voice that I hadn’t been reacquainted with until now. My eyes widen as another small slice of panic cut through me, but I didn’t respond. I just stared at him, wide eyed and confused and unbelievably terrified.

“I _said_ ,” Aaron growled lowly, “do you _understand_? Answer me.”

That seemed to snap me out of it, my mind latching onto his question and breaking down at the dominance and seriousness of his demeanor. I gave him a small nod, my chin still held in his grip. I opened my mouth to speak, my words shaky and quiet as they left my mouth, “y-y-yes s-sir.”

“Good. Now get off the floor,” he commanded, his voice maintaining that low tone that told me not to push my luck any further. He was taking on his stoic persona, becoming the alpha male that could command any situation put before him. Aaron straightened, taking a step back so I could stand up, that hard look remaining on his face as he did. He never took his eyes off me as I stood up, my eyes staying glued to his, my mind waiting for another command as I submitted to _his_ authority. As I submitted to _his_ dominance. As I submitted to _him._ He looked to an open seat, his eyes then coming back to mine. I didn’t know if that was meant to be a command, so I stayed put, not wanting to fall into a trap. Not wanting to fall into a trick. “Go sit down in that seat. Now,” he ordered, never wavering in his control.

I finally looked away from him, walking past him to the seat he had indicated and sitting down, my head bowing and my eyes finding my lap. I forced myself not to shake, not to let the fear of unknown consequences get the better of me.

_Aaron wouldn’t get violent, would he? He wouldn’t hurt us, right? All the others hurt you. All of them. But he’s different… right? I’m not just tripping or dreaming?_

_**Aaron is different. He’s yet to betray your trust. At least he hasn’t raped you.** _

_Shut up! SHUT UP! Fuck off. Go away. Stop it. Stop. Stop. Master didn’t rape me. I wasn’t raped. I deserved to be used. It’s all I’m good for. Shut up. Shut the fuck up. Please. Please just shut up._

  
_**You act like I’m lying to you. I’m telling you truth. No one else will, so I will.** _

_No. No. No, no, no. Please just stop. I can’t. Just stop. Stop it._

_**You’ll have to face the facts eventually, why not now? Hm? You didn’t seem to mind me breaking you from reality 6 days ago when I killed Webb, so why not just accept the facts now?** _

_No… no. What happened was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t exist. Leave me alone. Leave me the hell alone._

I didn’t look up. I didn’t look around. I didn’t speak. I just sat, my body tight with stress and building anxiety that radiated out of me but never breached the surface. I didn’t let it show. I didn’t let my weakness show. Weakness meant death. Maybe I was meant to die. Sometimes I thought I had lived longer than I was supposed to, like I was tricking death each day. I knew I wouldn’t make it out of this alive. This would never be over. This experience was far from over and that meant in the end I would die. For whatever reason, I found that to be calming. Eventually I wouldn’t have to fight anymore. Eventually I could just sink into eternal nothingness and disappear from everyone’s thoughts. One day I wouldn’t be a burden anymore and I would be allowed to rest. I wanted nothing more than to rest.

The feeling of fear and anxiety dissipated, the feeling of odd comfort left in its wake. I felt comfortable in the concept of death. Should I be scared of that? Maybe. Should I let those thoughts be heard before they consumed me fully? Probably. Would I? Never. I would never let my thoughts be known. That would fuck everything up. And who would care? No one. No one would ever care. My thoughts would never matter to anyone. I was a shell. I sliver of a person that people looked at and then manipulated and abused. I was nothing to people. I was **nothing.** For a fleeting moment I felt serene, at peace almost. This terrible nightmare that never seemed to end would be over and then I would truly be free.

I brushed my fingers over the material of my shirt, feeling the dried blood that matted the gray cloth. While in part I found my actions to be weak and pathetic and deeply disgusting, some small part of me, the small dark piece of me shadowed by my fear, enjoyed it. That small part liked more than the endorphins and rushing of adrenaline and hormones. It was more than that. I enjoyed the feeling of warm blood tricking out of my body, painting my skin and staining it crimson. It was a reminder of my broken mortality and shattered soul. It was what kept me sane, in a way. The hiss of pain and splattering of blood coating and destroying sickening innocence, showing off true desolation. I knew that was dark, that it was fucked up, but I couldn’t bring myself to change that. It was the only part of me that was truly mine and mine alone. The dark pieces were the only pieces I was allowed to keep to myself. The shadows were what I lived in, hiding from the obliviousness of the light.

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

We landed back in D.C., all of us tired and emotionally drained from all of this. This entire situation was draining. Exhausting. Complicated as well. Strauss was going to want to know everything and she was going to want to talk to both Reese and me. I stood, opening the carry-on storage compartment and getting my bag and Reese’s. I motioned Reese off the plane with the others but pulled Dave back to speak to him. “Strauss is going to want to talk to him the second we step foot in the building. I think the team should stay before I let them go home and try and get some sleep and get their thoughts together,” I stated.

Dave nodded in agreement, “I think that’s wise. They can help stabilize him. They know his behavior on more than one level, although that might serve as a disadvantage. Strauss should let off easier, though. Once she lays eyes on him, at least.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I plan on taking a sabbatical. He can’t operate independently anymore, and they won’t approve a month’s leave. I still have to tell the team, but I just haven’t found the right time,” I said, pained by the thought. _None of this ever would have happened if I hadn’t been so reckless. Damn it, Hotchner._

“We can have team dinner tonight. My place. It would be a chance to see how well he can interact outside a medical setting. It’s not too private but not public. You could tell the team then,” Dave suggested.

“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great,” I said.

Dave nodded, turning and stepping to the door of the jet to exit and get in the SUVs to head back to Quantico. “It’s settled. I’ll tell them the plan while you deal with Strauss.”

* * *

Reese seemed to get more nervous as we stepped out into the Quantico air, everyone moving to get their things and enter the building. I grabbed both our bags out of the trunk, shutting it and then preparing to face our section chief. Our politically involved section chief. Reese walked behind me a few steps. He looks thoroughly disheveled, his shirt covered in blood and the rest of him being bruised and scarred. This was going to be a long… however long it took him to heal. I hoped he would allow himself to heal. Stockholm was powerful thing, trapping people and breaking them down to their last ounce of sanity.

We walked into the building, getting through the security turnstiles and walking as a group to the elevator. Immediately, Reese was a spectacle, seasoned agents and recruits alike staring at the man. Jaws dropped open and gasps were audible, some recognizing him and becoming shocked that he was even alive; others simply gawked at his appearance, the black and purple bruising impossible to miss, the scars on his arms a talking point among people in the lobby. The elevator opened and we stepped in. I was happy he had some sort of shield for the moment. No one could stare or gawk or make him anymore uncomfortable than he already was. I could only imagine the thoughts running through his head. I knew he was a complex thinker and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of what he could think when his mind was trapped in darkness to such a complex degree.

_And who’s fault is that, Hotchner? Not his, for the love of god._

The elevator opened on our floor, everyone stepping out. Reese stepped out behind everyone, colliding into another man who wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around him and rather paying attention to a conversation between him and two other agents. Reese backed up, trying to stutter out apologies but no doubt overwhelmed.

“Watch where your fucking going, man!” the man exclaimed, irritated by something as small as being bumped into. I went to step in but was cut off by sudden anger and frustration and aggression from Reese. I watched his entire body change gears, his body language becoming completely different **[A/N: that’s Benjamin taking over btw, Hotch just doesn’t know yet].** It was wild, the change coming quickly but not leaving him as quick as it came like it had. This seemed more permanent and more vivid.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have bumped into you if you had looked up from whatever the fuck you were doing, you fucking idiot!” Reese yelled; rage vibrating off him. Everyone stopped in their tracks, stunned by the newfound confidence and the intensity of his emotions.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to like that?” the man roared, taken aback by the sudden snap from the man in front of him.

Reese gave him a fake smile, waving him arms emphatically as he spoke, “huh. I must have been talking to the people next to you who were paying attention and moved out of my way! I was talking to you, you fucking moron! Jesus, is that so hard to comprehend or are you that fucking stupid?”

“Stupid little bitch,” the man muttered, rolling his eyes as he tried to push Reese out of the way. Reese grabbed him suddenly, thrusting him back and almost knocking him off his feet.

“Watch your god damn mouth, you pathetic fucking idiot,” Reese spat.

“That’s enough!” I bellowed, drawing both men’s attention away from one another and to me. I pointed at Reese and then crooked my finger, telling him to come to me. He scowled at me, rage lurking under the surface but not coming out of him as he stalked towards me. I addressed the other man, “sorry about that. He won’t cause you anymore trouble. He’s just a little shaken up. Sorry.” I grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged him down a hallway towards Strauss’s office, my own irritation stewing. _What the hell had gotten into him? I know he’s going to have meltdowns, but that was extreme. It was out of character for him on all fronts._

I let him go when we got to Strauss’s door. I knocked, my eyes glancing over to the man who was still thoroughly pissed off. “Come in.” I opened the door, leading the way into the office and shutting the door behind Reese. “Agent Benson… it’s been a while,” Strauss commented dryly, fake enthusiasm at his return oozing out of her words. Reese didn’t say anything, he simply walked to a chair in front of her desk and sat down, looking to me and then to the chair and then to Strauss.

I walked to the chair, taking a seat and addressing Strauss. “He just got back. You know that. I’ve come to discuss his leave,” I said.

“He can have a month of leave,” Strauss said, and I furrowed my brow.

“He needs at least two. I sent you a copy of the psychological status report the hospital gave. His mental condition will hinder him greatly. He needs more time,” I argued.

“He can make adjustments when he comes back. He can work at his desk and accompany Agent Garcia when working on active cases. He doesn’t have to go back into the field. You know how this game is played, Agent Hotchner. He has a month. Anything else?” she said dismissively.

“You know throwing him into this job headfirst could cause him to go into a psychological break! He needs two months and I’ll be on sabbatical to help him recover,” I stated, not letting her cut this conversation short.

“He has a month—” she began but she was cut off by Reese.

“Enough. The both of you,” he said coldly, making her quirk a brow at him, her outrage at him becoming palpable.

“Agent Benson—”

“I said enough!” Reese roared, rising to his feet to quickly, a small grunt of pain leaving his throat from the pain shooting through his abdomen from his stitches. He did something unexpected, his fingers curling around the material of the hem of his shirt and pulling up, pulling his shirt off and dropping it in his chair and reveling his scarred body. This was the first I was seeing of his scarred chest and back. Hundreds of small cuts littered his body, back and front. Small circular burns were scattered over those, mostly across his pectorals and shoulders. There were bruises on his sides from being held down and of course the stitches in his abdomen from being stabbed.

Strauss averted her eyes, holding her hands up to block the sight. “Oh lord… Benson, put your shirt back on!” she demanded.

“Look at me,” he demanded, ice seeping into his voice, furthering his cold demeanor.

“What?”

“LOOK AT ME!” he yelled, his tone venomous, ferocity pouring out of him with simultaneous rage. This was unexpected and odd. He usually switched to submission when stressed out of conditioning and primitive instinct. This was dominant and… rage filled as well as vengeful, as though he was angry at her for all the wrongs committed against him. Strauss hesitantly looked at him, grimacing when she got a good look at him. He smiled, the act angry and dark, his eyes clouding with newfound empowerment. “Now, you’ll listen to me. Take a good look and imagine… imagine the stories behind all of these scars. All the bruises. All the burns and track marks. Gruesome, isn’t it? Imagine _living_ it,” he snarled, his voice razor sharp, a shadow coming over him that was ferally dangerous.

“Agent Benson, I assure you—” Strauss tried, only to be cut off again.

“SHUT UP AND LISTEN!” he shouted, her mouth falling open and then shutting abruptly. His grin widened, becoming feral and raw with some rush of sadistic pleasure at her slight fear. She wasn’t in control. I wasn’t in control. He was. He had full control and he knew it; and now he was going to use it to his advantage. “Good… now, you either give me my two months leave and give Hotchner his sabbatical, or by tomorrow morning my lawyer will be serving you and the bureau a lawsuit. So, what will it be?” he asked, unmatched power exuding from his every pore.

_Hotchner? Since when does he call me Hotchner? What the hell has gotten into him and what is going on?_

Strauss clenched her jaw, her outrage at his perceived disrespect creating even more tension in the small office. “You have two months. You have a two-month sabbatical. I’ll send the papers tomorrow morning.”

Reese picked up his shirt and left the office, that vengeful dominance surging from every step he took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMK what you think :)  
> Thanks for reading!


	15. Exhausting Contradictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was submitting. Submitting to the imminent consequences of my outburst of emotions and for giving an opinion without being explicitly told to. I felt so stupid in that moment, two sets of rules battling to be followed as my mind tried desperately to wrap itself around the contradictions and somehow make sense of them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: self-harm, mentions of sexual slavery/violence, mentions of abuse, Stockholm syndrome, intrusive thoughts, etc. Please use discretion. 
> 
> Shorter, I know, but still good in my opinion. Enjoy and thanks for all the support so far. Hope you had a good new year!

“To the one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible.”  
-Thomas Aquinas

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

Benjamin’s icy dominance melted, letting me gain control of myself, my body physically vibrating with remembered rage but mostly newly developed fear and mass panic. Although I was back in control of myself, I found Benjamin’s coldness seeping into my veins, leaving my emotions frostbitten and violent, my entire demeanor growing colder by the second. Anxiety pooled in my gut, leaving behind retched sickness and an acidic way of thinking. I was breathing heavily when I pushed open the door of one of the men’s restrooms, stumbling into a stall and sinking to my knees, vomiting what little was in my stomach. I stayed like that until I couldn’t vomit anymore, shifting positions and leaning against the stall wall and catching my breath.

The taste of bile and strong urge to cut passed by me, but I ignored them both. That wasn’t my biggest concern at the moment. I pulled my shirt back on, hiding the scars and bruises once again. Shame washed over me like rain, that cold feeling getting worse but not in the dominant, aggressive way Benjamin wore it. It was more sorrowful and sent chills through me. After a few minutes I peeled myself off the dirty tile floor, my legs threatening to give out underneath me; I somehow found the strength to keep myself from collapsing. I would be lying if I didn’t say a slice of terror cut through me in that moment, the depth of what I, or rather Benjamin, had just done catching up to me in full. That made me feel sick again, although the sickness wasn’t as harsh in nature.

I pushed the stall door open, stepping out and facing myself in the mirror in front of the small line of sinks. I felt distant from myself in that moment, everything about me turning from hate and disgust to sickening sympathy, sitting gracefully on the borderline of self-pity. My eyes softened, the hardness that once lurked under them fleeting and leaving behind the primitive softness of submissive survival. It wasn’t abhorrent nor was it beautiful. It was hollow. In that moment I had nothing left, my core becoming hollow, emotions leaving me with suddenness and leaving nothing but aching and yearning behind. I didn’t know what I yearned for anymore; I didn’t know if I yearned for a new chance at life or an opportunity for death. I didn’t know if I yearned for raw emotion or if I needed the lack of their presence.

Once again, I retreated into the shadows of my mind, hiding from the light that I felt undeserving of. I hated the feeling of it. I used to be someone who could never understand why people do the dark and devious things they do, my life dedicated to hunting criminals and beating them at their own game. For once I understood. I knew what they felt and why they became who they were on a personal level. At that I couldn’t even feel terror. I was swallowed whole by my numbness, accepting my fate to be trapped by it for the rest of my meaningless existence.

I turned away from the mirror, breaking out of my trance but the hollowness digging in its heels and consuming me even though I had looked away from the cause of it all. I strode out of the bathroom, walking down the halls and to the doors of the BAU, opening them and walking through the bullpen, ignoring the stares I got as I walked through them. I passed by the vacant desk that once belonged to me and the rest of my old teammates to Aaron’s office, opening the door and closing it behind me. The room was dark, the person who it belonged to still gone from it. I went to an empty space and sunk to my knees, bowing my head and waiting. I kept myself still, the occasional tremor passing through my body but other than that I stayed put. The more time that passed the more the hollowness was chipped away, replaced by fear of the unknown.

My knees and shins hated me, screaming for relief but I stayed still. I didn’t dare move. I was submitting. Submitting to the imminent consequences of my outburst of emotions and for giving an opinion without being explicitly told to. I felt so stupid in that moment, two sets of rules battling to be followed as my mind tried desperately to wrap itself around the contradictions and somehow make sense of them. Then in a moment of clarity I took off my shirt, showing off the scars I hated so much. I folded the shirt and set it next to me and then resumed kneeling, my eyes downcast from a new wave of shame and submission. I heard the doorknob turning, the lights flicking on and then there was an abrupt gasp, meaning whoever was stepping into the office wasn’t Aaron.

“Kid… what are you doing?” It was Derek’s voice. I heard whispers meaning that this was more than likely the majority of the team standing there. I didn’t answer his question. I stayed silent, my mind deciding it was easier to follow old rules rather than new ones. If it meant I got one small ounce of sanity, it was worth the risk of punishment. A rush of memories flowed in my mind, remembrance of punishment and reward alike throwing me slightly off balance as I kneeled. “What do I do?” Derek asked.

“Hotch had to scare him to get him to move,” JJ reminded him, although she seemed to find that to be painful.

Derek sighed, “I don’t want to do that. He’s been through enough without me jumping in the middle of it all and scaring the hell out if him. Any other bright ideas?”

“God… I knew it would be bad, but I never knew it would be this bad. There are so many…” Garcia said quietly, stunned by the scars that covered me. I could feel them staring at one in particular. I knew they were staring at the now visible “WW” that was carved just below the top of my right shoulder, a mark that was meant to remind me of how I was bound to my Master, Walter Webb. There was a matching mark carved into my pelvis on the opposite side of my abdominal midline, furthering the reminder. When I thought of myself as an independent person, worthy of individualism, I might have found them to be sickening and disgusting. In my current way of thinking, however, I couldn’t. I found them to simply be marks that adorned my skin to prove I was someone’s property. It was easy to accept that. It always had been.

“Morgan, what’s going on?” Aaron’s deep voice asked, interjecting into the thrall.

“Look,” Derek said in explanation, probably stepping to the side and motioning to where I was kneeling.

Then there was silence. Uncomfortable silence. Tense silence. Silence I had learned to hate over the past five months. It had always meant punishment wasn’t far behind. “Reese. Stand up,” Aaron ordered. Once again, I defied him, staying planted on the floor, my eyes locked on the tile floor. The door suddenly shut, footsteps approaching me, making my heartrate rise as the fear started setting in. A lamp turned on and then the lights were turned off, leaving the room somewhat dark but still illuminated by the dim orange light. Aaron squatted down in front of me, tilting my chin up so I would look at him. “Why are you kneeling in my office? Please, answer me,” Aaron said gently, quiet disappointment betraying the look on his face. He was disappointed in me. Already.

I swallowed, my eyes darting away as I pieced my thoughts together. “I-I sp-spoke out of t-turn…” I stuttered, his face falling as he connected the dots quickly, “I’m s-sorry, sir. I wasn’t thinking.” He closed his eyes, biting back unspoken anger. My eyes widened and I began shaking openly, my mind finally unable to control my fear and responses to said fear. My muscles got tenser, preparing itself as it was conditioned to for both physical and sexual violence. When he opened them, he seemed to panic, his eyes once again betraying his impassive mask that he had shifted into. He stood, his arms coming underneath my arms and lifting me, moving us back to the couch and depositing the both of us on it.

“Sit however you want, baby boy. I’m going to explain some things,” Aaron murmured softly. Sudden confusion tormented me, at a loss of understanding as to why I wasn’t being beaten senseless right now or verbally harassed. Was it sick that I wanted that? That it would be easier to simply take the physical pain rather than deal with the psychological tangle of thoughts and feelings? Did I really want it, or did I want freedom, I just didn’t understand that I wanted it yet?

I scooted over so I was pressed against Aaron’s side, trying to get as close as physically possible to him. Aaron chuckled and then patted his lap, telling me to climb onto to it and settle there. I obliged, albeit somewhat cautiously. I was waiting for the gentleness and kindness to disappear and for rage and disgust to take its place. Aaron let me adjust, waiting until I was sitting comfortably to wrap his arms around me and start talking. I slowly sunk back, letting my head rest in the crook of his neck and closing my eyes, hoping that was ok, hoping the act wouldn’t be perceived as one of disobedience. His lips found my hair, kissing the top of my head gently as he held me to him, his mere presence somehow grounding me in an odd, inexplicable way. I don’t know what prompted me to suddenly say something. Maybe it was the guilt and shame that hung over my head like a cloud. Maybe it was Benjamin forcing me out of the box. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, stunned I had said it but accepting it. I didn’t want to think about the constant contradictions and pain of them anymore. I didn’t want to feel so much pain anymore.

“What are you sorry for, baby? You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Aaron remarked, confused himself by my abrupt apology. Both of us were confused, but confused by different pieces of each other, making everything seem so complicating and unbelievably exhausting. I froze up, not wanting to explain it and then have him leave. Not when I had just gotten him back. He would leave eventually. Everyone would. But I needed to hold on to Aaron for just a little longer. “Explain it to me, baby boy. I won’t be able to understand if you don’t explain it,” Aaron coaxed.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, trying to find a way that explained my apology in the most acceptable format. It was harder than I thought it would be. I guess I shouldn’t expect much when my mind was going a hundred miles a minute. The hollowness in my chest was replaced by sorrow; sorrow that threatened to hold my head under the depressive waters of my thoughts and drown me, all while the world looked on. “For all of this…” I whispered, finding the most simplistic statement described the deepest complexities of the situation at hand.

There was a moment of silence between the two of us, the only sounds being our collective breathing. His fingers rubbed small circles into my skin, trying to get the tension in my muscles to misspend. Silent tears pooled in my eyes, rolling down my cheeks without any warning or any indication they were there. Sound meant the possibility of the perception of disobedience, so I often found I forced myself to cry silently. Some days I cried silently without realizing I was. Yet another trait learned from my captivity and conditioning.

“None of this is your fault, Reese. None of it. I don’t understand your struggle, but I understand you are struggling. That’s ok. I meant what I said about making all of this up to you. I’m not going to get upset at you or push you away or judge you over your struggles. I want to help you, not hurt you, baby boy. I hate that you can’t trust me right now because I really just want to protect you and make you feel safe. You deserve that after all the shit you’ve been through in your life… hell after everything you’ve been through in the past year,” Aaron said somberly. My tears flowed more freely at that, my emotions starting to crack me open again. A whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it, noise breaking free from inside me.

“Shhh, it’s over now. It’s all over. I know you think it isn’t and that your mind is trying to stop you from believing that, but it is. He can’t hurt you, sweetheart. You’re safe with me, baby boy, I promise,” Aaron soothed, his hand finding the back of my head as I cried into the crook of his neck, turning the charcoal gray material an even darker color from being stained by my tears. I pushed my arms underneath his jacket, my fingers digging into his torso as I clung onto him, clinging onto the much-needed feeling of security. I bit my bottom lip, trying to contain sobs and quiet myself. “Just breathe.”

I felt partially humiliated by my own soft sniveling and lack of control over myself. I pulled my head back to wipe my tears, trying to get rid of this physical sign of weakness. “I’m just so sorry for putting all of you through this and for all of you having to deal with me… I’m just so fucking disgusting and pathetic. I’m so sorry you have to deal with this,” I said in hoarse whisper, letting myself crack open even more; letting more pieces shatter and die in the shadows of my mind.

“No, you aren’t. You are the farthest thing from either of those things. I’m helping you because I want to, because I love you. I’m not letting you slip through my fingers again, baby. Never again.” I just closed my eyes again, feeling bone tired from the constant fighting with myself and the constant excitement. I just wanted to sleep. Right here. In Aaron’s lap. I nuzzled back into the crook of his neck, letting out a deep, shaky breath. Aaron let out a soft laugh, kissing the side of my head. “As cute as I think you are and as much as I love having you sit on my lap, you can’t go to sleep. We have to go to Rossi’s for a little while, little boy,” Aaron whispered softly, eliciting a whine from me in protest. **[A/N: I know the nicknames ‘little one’ and ‘little boy’ are very similar and should probably be a trigger, but I honestly don’t care. The nickname is staying, don’t come for me].**

“You can sleep in the car, but we have to go. I have to tell the team I’ll be on sabbatical and pass someone the responsibilities of unit chief. Besides, you need to eat. You haven’t eaten very much the entire week. I don’t want you to get sick or something because you aren’t eating,” Aaron asserted, his dominance telling me to give him control, but it was still soft and sweet. It was nice. It was nice to have someone else in control but not in a sadistic way. My mind clouded with confusion but quickly pushed past it; I was too tired to try and sort through it all.

“But you are really comfortable,” I mumbled, hoping my pleading tone would get me my way.

_Your opinion doesn’t matter, whore. Follow the rules._

_**Shut up.** _

Aaron sighed, “it is really hard saying no to you when you say it like that, but you still can’t go to sleep. We have to go to Rossi’s.” I huffed, realizing how much I sounded like a petulant child, but ignoring it. I didn’t care. I had no more energy to care. I clambered off his lap gingerly, leaning down with a wince and picking up my discarded shirt. I held it for a moment, sudden shame surging inside me as I looked at the blood that had stained it. I glanced down at my bandaged arm, wrist, and hand. I felt disgusted with myself, my disgust emanating off me and hanging heavy in the air. “Here,” Aaron said, holding out the other shirt from the bag that held my stuff in it. I took it from him with shaky hands, handing him the one I had been wearing. I slipped the new shirt over my head, hiding my scars from the prying eyes of the rest of humanity again.

“C-Can I have the hoodie from my bag? I don’t want to look at these anymore,” I asked timidly, bracing yet again for some sort of negative reaction to my request. Aaron nodded, handing me the navy hoodie and then going about putting the shirt back in the bag. I threw the hoodie on, letting the material hide my arms and the majority of the bruising around my neck. The bruises drew more attention to me, but they would heal. The scars, burns, and track marks were worse. They were subtle and more personal. Too personal. Too personal to be on display. Aaron grabbed some things from his desk and our bags, the both of us going to join the team and drive to Rossi’s mansion.

* * *

Aaron shook me awake gently, my eyes snapping open as I looked around in confusion. We were outside Rossi’s mansion, sitting in the car. “Five more minutes,” I grumbled, trying to go back to sleep.

Aaron laughed, the click of the seatbelt release mixing with the smooth, deep sound. “Maybe you can sleep after dinner, baby boy. But right now, you need to wake up,” Aaron said, his knuckles brushing my cheek. I glared at him sleepily, feeling groggy but relenting. It’s not like I had much of a choice. “Good boy,” he praised, making me blush slightly.

We stepped out of the car, interlacing our fingers and walking into the grandiose mansion side by side. The rest of the team are already inside, laughing with each other as Rossi told some story about his time in the marines. Those used to make me crack a smile and a joke of my own, laughing about how stupid Rossi was as a soldier in his youth. Now I just stared blankly. “Glad you two love birds finally decided to show up,” Rossi commented jokingly, making Aaron glare although it wasn’t as steely as it normally was. It was playful, a look shared between two old friends.

“Leave ‘em alone Rossi, they just got each other back,” Derek laughed, taking a swig of the beer in his hand.

Emily held a bottle out to Aaron, but he declined, pulling me into him tighter. I rolled my eyes and went to take it, just for my hand to be grabbed away. “You are not allowed to drink,” Aaron admonished lightly, making me let out an exasperated groan in response. The team laughed at my expense, making me glare at them.

“I can get you some water,” Spencer offered.

“I can get my own drink, Spence. Thanks, though,” I said quietly, suddenly feeling withdrawn and slightly overwhelmed. I tried to place my finger on the feeling but came up empty. The only thing I understood was the itch. The itch to cut. To drink. To _shoot up._ I could fight drug addiction. I was forced to repeatedly over the five months of hell I had endured, but I refused to give in to that. That was illegal and wrong on so many levels. It would only bring back terrible memories and get me arrested. “I’m going to get something to drink. I’ll be back,” I murmured, pulling away from Aaron and walking through the house to the kitchen. I took a glass out of one of the wooden cabinets, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a filtered pitcher and pouring a glass. I put the pitcher back and then picked my glass up, taking a swig and swallowing.

I walked out of the kitchen, wandering down one of the hallways and finding myself in a den rather than back with the rest of the team who were on the back patio. A Steinway grand piano sat in the middle of the room, the lid down to protect the hammers and strings inside the shiny black wood. Bookshelves lined one side of the room, a T.V. in the nestled in the center on the wall in the middle of them all. A coffee table sat in front of that, a black leather sofa and chairs creating a comfortable space for entertaining. A bar was on the other side of the room, an older style jukebox next to it to perfect the vibe of the space. I walked over to the bar, setting my glass down and then moving to the piano, sitting on the matching leather bench and opening the lid that covered the ivory keys.

I slid my fingers just barely over the keys, taking in a deep breath and then finding the first chord I wanted to play. I started playing pieces based off memory from years of listening to them. I started playing the ‘Moonlight Sonata’ by Beethoven, my foot pressing the sustain barely as I drew out the sound. I just started playing, focusing on the music and my timing as my fingers danced over the keys. Eventually I went off script, starting to play what I wanted to and just flowing with the music.

“I didn’t know you played.”

Rossi’s voice threw me off, my fingers suddenly hitting random notes and essentially ruining the sound I had created. My back went up, my muscles tensing as red flags flashed in my eyes. Why? It was Rossi. Rossi never once hurt me and yet I was afraid. “I, um… I don’t really. I just listen to classical a lot and can recognize the patterns… it just comes naturally,” I explained nervously. I looked back, watching as Rossi went over to the bar and took out two crystal tumblers and a bottle of scotch, pouring the amber liquid into both.

“Relax, kid. Have a drink with me,” Rossi said, motioning to the tumblers as he put the bottle of scotch back under the bar. I knitted my brow, skeptical. I didn’t want to upset Aaron but for the love of all things holy I needed a drink. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papa Rossi time bitches.
> 
> LMK what u think. I’m trying to change up my writing style a bit and make things more complex and a bit more metaphorical.


	16. Constant Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, fear surging inside me again and forcing me to scramble for any sort of response. The immediate one was to sink to my knees and submit to him. To submit and let him do what he pleased with me in order to get rid of his anger."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attacks, talk of sexual abuse/slavery/violence, Stockholm Syndrome, suicidal thoughts, etc. 
> 
> Kinda hate this chapter but it's like 4,700 words so i'm not rewriting it. Enjoy!

“For all the words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, ‘it might have been.’”  
-John Greenleaf Whittier

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

“Relax, kid. Have a drink with me,” Rossi said, pushing a tumbler in my direction from where I sat at the piano bench, a few feet away. I furrowed my brow, skeptical of what Rossi was doing and if it was wise to drink against Aaron’s wishes. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” I wanted to drink, but what I wanted didn’t matter. But at the same time, I was too exhausted to care. My mind was tired of trying to constantly sort out right from wrong and truth from lies. Everything seemed too blurred at the moment.

I sighed, shutting the lid of the piano over the keys and standing, walking over to the bar and taking the tumbler meant for me. I held the tumbler in the air, “cheers.” I took a swig of the scotch, a smooth burn and complex flavor hitting my pallet and sliding down my throat. Rossi took a swig of his own drink, setting his tumbler back down on the counter of the bar. The bar top was a black marble, the wood underneath a darker oak. It was a nice-looking room, home-y and comfortable for all different types of people. I held my gaze at the amber liquid, shame exuding from my every pore. Everything felt shameful, whether it was logical or not. Emotions didn’t use logic, that’s what separated different types of people.

“How are you doing?” Rossi asked, as though it wasn’t blatantly obvious.

I wanted to say _‘I shattered a mirror in the jet, let my alter yell at my section chief, and kneeled shirtless in my boss’s and partner’s office and let the team see my scars, so how do you think it’s going?’_ But refrained from doing so. I took another drink of my scotch, swirling it around in my glass like it was wine as I tried to find a way to answer his question. In all reality I didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. I wanted to go to sleep or die, whichever came first.

“I don’t really know right now. Mostly just confused… and angry and exhausted. Shouldn’t you be cooking?” I asked, trying to divert the conversation. I did not want to do a deep dive into my feelings with someone that was like a father figure to me right now. The feelings were too raw and too real right now. I was exhausted by them.

“Nice try, but dinner is ready and being kept warm. I told them I was coming to get you,” Rossi said, a small smirk of knowing on his face, “why are you angry?”

“Rossi, I really don’t want to have this conversation right now if you don’t mind,” I snapped, irritation striking me out of nowhere it seemed.

“Why?” he asked, taking another sip of his drink, “why not have it right now? You’ll have to have it eventually. Are you afraid of something? Trying to hide something, perhaps?”

I narrowed my eyes, my trauma response to switch personalities in order to protect myself growing stronger by the moment. I couldn’t switch right now. It would lose me everything. I still needed a little more time. Just a little more time before I lost this constant war with myself, my mind, and the outside world. I didn’t want to lose it yet, not when I had just started to truly say my goodbyes **[FORSHADOWING]**. I knocked back the rest of my drink, setting the tumbler on the countertop a little too hard. “What the hell could I possibly be hiding, hm? Please, be my guest and tell me what the fuck my life is,” I practically snarled.

Rossi just shrugged, cocking his head to one side. “What makes you angry?” he asked again, his demeanor softer this time before I blew up at him. I bit my bottom lip, trying to control myself. I didn’t want to be here. I just wanted to be alone. I used to get to be alone in my dark little room in Maine.

_Great job, you fucked that up! Fucking wonderful! Nice once, Reese! You killed a perfectly good man, nearly died, and then dragged these people into your life when they don’t want to be in it! Amazing work, you fucking moron! Pathetic. You’re so fucking pathetic. Can’t be grateful for anything, you stupid fucking whore. God, you’re such a waste of space. Kill yourself and let these people go on with their lives. Please._

“Rossi, please. I can’t do this right now. I can’t,” I whispered, shame coming to hang over my head yet again. I felt weak in the knees, my body beginning to tremble. The liquor sitting the pit of stomach wasn’t helping much.

“Why not?”

“P-Please just st-stop,” I begged, my breathing becoming quick and shallow, panic seizing me and trying to pull me into the blackness. I thought I was going to be sick. I bit my bottom lip, biting until the taste of copper filled my mouth, blood gliding over my tongue and a light nip of pain running through me.

“You can, you simply won’t. You don’t want to accept that you are a free man and that what happened to you was terrible. Is that what makes you angry or is it more than that?” Rossi pushed. I grabbed the top of the counter, trying to keep myself steady. I thought I was going to black out. I clutched at my chest, my pulse fast and sporadic as memories poured over me, mixed with even more confusion and anger and pain. That feeling of anxiety was threatening to swallow me whole, rising from my gut and up my spine until it had me in full. “You’re free. You’re a human being. You will get through all of this. The man that took you wasn’t a good person, no matter what your mind thinks,” Rossi continued.

I shook my head, taking a step back as though I was physically trying to escape the conversation, “n-no, that’s not t-true.”

“Isn’t it? He raped you and kept you as a sexual slave for five months. Would you consider him a good person if it wasn’t you going through the trauma?” Rossi questioned calmly, paying no attention to my panic.

_Why is he doing that? It doesn’t matter. What he’s saying isn’t true. It can’t be true. Can it? NO. No, it can’t be. He’s not right. Master was a good man. A good man taking care of his property. I’m less. I’M LESS. I’M LESS. I’M LESS._

“S-Stop,” I pleaded meekly, taking another step back, my body swaying as my legs threatened to give out from underneath me and let me crumble to the floor. Rossi set his tumbler down, stepping around the bar and in my direction. My eyes grew wide, panic seeping into my every atom as familiar fear broke free. I tried taking another step back, but I collided with the piano, trapping myself. I clutched the side of it, my fingers digging into the wood as I braced myself for a physical blow.

Rossi stopped, standing a foot in front of me. “You’ll have to accept these things eventually. Dinner is ready. If I don’t see you in a few minutes, I’ll send Aaron to come collect you,” Rossi said, leaving me terrified against the piano. I watched him leave, my eyes still wide, my body shaking uncontrollably. I noticed the pain in my stomach, my head starting to ache as a dull throb built in the back of my skull from all the stress. From all the overthinking. I made my way over to the sofa, collapsing on it and shutting my eyes, passing out from the overbearing fear and sickening panic.

There was a hand on me, shaking me gently. “Reese, baby, you need to wake up.”

_Aaron._

I opened my eyes, trying to take in my surroundings in my groggy state. I felt like a ton of bricks got dropped on top of me. My abdomen was sore and aching, my head on the verge of imploding, and my body tense from all the panic and stress. Aaron was leaning over me, one hand on the top of the sofa supporting his weight, the other shaking me awake. There was a look of concern on his face, worry lurking in his deep brown eyes. I let out a pained exhalation, shutting my eyes again. I felt so tired. I could also feel the persistent nagging of hunger nipping at me. That and the lack of calory intake over the past few days weren’t helping my exhaustion.

“Everyone is waiting for us, baby boy. You need to wake up. I know you’re tired, but you can sleep after you eat something,” Aaron said softly.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked, my voice small and resigned.

“Maybe ten minutes. Dave came back and said you needed a few minutes. After a while he told me where you were and to go get you. The team is waiting for us,” Aaron answered. I opened my eyes, letting my guard crumble completely and just looking at him with wary, exhausted eyes. I didn’t want to move. I just wanted to fade into the back of everyone’s mind so I could go to sleep and be left alone. “I know. You only need to be awake a little while longer. You’ll be able to sleep after dinner and when we get home. Come on, little boy. You can stay awake for a few more minutes,” Aaron coaxed, making me let out a small whine.

“None of that, sweetheart. It won’t be very long. Come on.”

“Why?” I asked, knowing the answer but seriously not wanting to move. I was trying to stall, which was blatantly obvious.

“Because you need to eat and because the rest of the team is waiting. If you don’t get up, I will physically pick you up and move you. I will treat you like a child if I need to. Now come on, or I will pick you up and I will be making all the decisions for you the rest of the night,” Aaron warned. I glared, sighing as I deflated, giving in to him to save myself the embarrassment. Usually I was fine with that, especially given the dynamic we had established at the beginning of our relationship, but not right now. Not in front of the team. It felt odd, in a way. I knew that it didn’t matter and that I would let him make the decisions out of fear anyways. I was still so confused and conflicted and that tore me apart. I hated feeling that way, but it didn’t matter. My opinion didn’t matter. I didn’t matter.

I moved to get up, extending a hand in silent ask for help. My abdomen was still sore, making moving like this less that pleasant. Aaron grabbed my hand, helping me up and smiling, “good boy. Come on. Let’s go eat.” I refrained from sharing that I wouldn’t be eating anyways, so I was really just there for fucking decoration. I laughed to myself, biting my bottom lip to keep in the actual noise. Who would want me as a decoration for anything? It’s not like I looked pretty or anything. “What’s so funny?” Aaron asked skeptically, quirking a brow.

I waved him off, “nothing. Just tired laughter.”

Aaron grinned, “yeah, right.”

I didn’t let go of his hand as we walked through the house, walking into the dining room and taking the only two seats available. I sat in the middle of the table, Aaron on my left and Spencer on my right.

“Buon appetito!” Rossi said emphatically, a que for people to start making plates and eating. I sat and waited, letting the others have first shot at the food. I didn’t know exactly what the meal was, besides it being some traditional Italian dish with traditional Italian side dishes and wine. Well, the others were drinking wine. I had a water in front of my plate, which was fine considering I already had a headache and red wine would only make that worse. I also wasn’t much of a wine drinker in the first place, so it really didn’t matter to me. I just sat, staring at my plate and the water in front of me. My eyes went glassy, my mind quickly slipping into dissociation rather than reality.

Someone tapped my shoulder, making me flinch and then look to see who tapped me or what was going on. I looked at Spencer, finding him in a conversation about something obscure with JJ, Derek, Emily, and Penelope. I turned my head, looking at Aaron. He pointed to my plate, “eat.” I looked in front of me, finding food on it rather than it being empty as I had left it. I looked away, feeling guilty on multiple levels; on one level for breaking the rules, meaning I didn’t deserve food. On another for hiding that feeling and lying about why I was avoiding meals. I know it worried Aaron, which made me feel… bad. Elementary description of my emotions, but it was accurate. I bit my bottom lip, still not picking up my fork and digging in. Food was a privilege I didn’t deserve.

“Reese,” Aaron said more sternly, not enough to attract the attention of the others who were lost in conversation, “eat. Please.” I glanced at him and then looked away quickly, muttering something under my breath. “Speak up, please. And eat.”

“I’m not hungry right now,” I said quietly, not daring to meet his eyes and lie more blatantly. I was a good liar, at least I used to be, but never with Aaron. He could see straight through me.

“You haven’t eaten a full meal in four days. I know you are. The only reason you haven’t been is because of your throat. What’s actually going on?”

I peered up at him through my lashes, looking back down from guilt and shame, “I didn’t earn this, Aaron. I don’t deserve the privilege of food.” I apparently said that louder than I thought I did as the room went silent and all attention was turned towards Aaron and me.

Aaron set his fork down, pushing back from the table quickly, “excuse us for a moment, please.” I got up with him, avoiding everyone’s eyes and following him out and back into one of the guest rooms. Aaron motioned me in first, following behind me and closing the door to give us more privacy. “You’ve been lying to avoid eating,” Aaron stated, a hint of rage in his voice. Rage that was directed at me. I had fucked up. I had been disobedient. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, fear surging inside me again and forcing me to scramble for any sort of response. The immediate one was to sink to my knees and submit to him. To submit and let him do what he pleased with me in order to get rid of his anger.

I wanted to apologize, to beg and plead but I didn’t. I wasn’t permitted to open my mouth and speak, so I wouldn’t. I just bowed my head, closing my eyes and waiting for the eminent sting of a hand across my face or the familiar feeling of being yanked to my feet by my hair and bent over the nearest surface roughly. My nails dug into my clothed knees, the anticipation of violence coiling like a spring, daring me to snap from the tension. Instead there was the rustling of clothing and then strong hands were dragging me to my feet, pulling me backwards and urging me to lay on the bed, my face burying in Aaron’s chest. He had taken his jacket off so he could lay next to me. One of his arms banded around me, holding me tightly to him as I tried to calm down. My mind was racing and confused and on the verge of breakdown.

“No, no, no… shhh… I’m not mad at you. I’m mad that Webb did this to you and made you think this way. I’ll never be mad at you for that. You’re such a good boy, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong… you weren’t disobedient. Shhh, just breathe for me, ok? I want you to focus on calming your breathing. Can you do that for me?” I nodded, warm tears leaking from my eyes as my chest rose fast as I struggled to breathe from my panic. I placed one of my palms to his chest, feeling his heartbeat beating steadily underneath it. I started changing my breathing, focusing on the rhythmic beating and forcing myself to breath based on the pattern. Aaron ran his hand up and down my back, trying to get my muscles to relax and let go off all the stress-filled tension. “You’re doing so well, baby boy. Just breathe. You’re so good… you deserve so much better than you think you do. Don’t worry about what’s going on in your head right now, just focus on calming down. Just calm down. I’ve got you, baby. I’ll keep you safe.”

**He sure did a bangin job then. Guess who saved us? Me! I did. Fucking asshole, taking all the credit.**

I closed my eyes, nuzzling further into him and putting my other arm around his waist, clinging onto him. I felt safer, although I didn’t deserve to feel that way. It was just a good feeling to let someone else protect me while I felt as though I couldn’t protect myself. It was nice to have a chance to show vulnerability. A part of me screamed it wasn’t a good idea, that my brokenness would force everyone away out of disgust, but I ignored it. No point fighting myself right now. Fingers slipped into my hair, playing with it softly and making me relax further.

“That’s it, little boy. Just go to sleep, ok? Go ahead and go to sleep in my arms. So, so good for me. I love you. Just focus on your breathing and going to sleep knowing I love you,” Aaron murmured, kissing the top of my head as he played with my hair, lulling me to sleep with ease.

“Love you too,” I mumbled, my breathing becoming even as I finally relaxed in full. I drifted off, enjoying the security of being held in Aaron’s arms and the unrealistic thought that maybe, just maybe, the never-ending torment might stop.

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

I let out a deep breath, my fingers combing through Reese’s hair. The boy was falling asleep, his face buried in my chest, one of his arms curled around my side as he held onto me tightly. I could tell he was asleep because his grasp loosened, his muscles relaxing as his body slipped into his sleep cycle with ease. I knew he was exhausted and overwhelmed, which was concerning but I didn’t focus on it too much. I just focused on the boy who was sleeping in my arms comfortably. I had been nervous that he would have a panic attack if I touched him, but he didn’t; instead he seemed to melt into my touches, although I couldn’t tell if that was because he was forcing himself to accept it or because he genuinely wanted to be touched. I was grateful he let me, though. I missed him. I missed having my boy in my arms.

I thought about the team and how they were probably going to come looking for the two of us, but I didn’t care. I was willing to lay here like this until they did. I could give a damn what they thought, either. I didn’t know how long I lay like that, simply running my fingers through his hair and holding him while he slept. The light knock on the door and the slow opening of it told me it had probably been a half hour. JJ peaked inside, starting to speak only to close her mouth as I motioned for her to be quiet.

“What is it?” I asked quietly as to not disturb my boy who was sound asleep.

“We just finished up and are waiting for you to break whatever news you have. Rossi kept your plates if you’re still hungry. Is he asleep?” JJ asked softly, keeping her voice quiet.

I gave her a small smile, looking at the sleeping boy clinging onto me, nodding. “He nearly had a panic attack. Today has just been hard on him. He was really tired,” I explained. JJ grinned. “I’ll be out in a few minutes,” I said.

“We’ll be in the den,” JJ said, closing the door.

I sighed, preparing to wake Reese up and for him to not be happy about it. I didn’t like waking him up when he seemed to be sleeping well but I didn’t want him to wake up and panic because I was gone. I ran my fingers through his hair again, shaking him gently. “Wake up, little boy,” I said, watching him stir. He scowled, burying his face further into my shirt and trying to keep himself asleep. “You’re cute, but you have to wake up. At least for a few minutes. Wake up, baby boy. Let me see your eyes, please,” I instructed gently. He let out a sleepy whine, trying to ignore my attempts to wake him up, his fingers tightening as he woke up.

“No,” he whined, his tone almost child like as he clung onto me and ignored what I had told him, “too tired.”

I chuckled, moving my fingers out of his hair and tilting his chin back and out of my chest. “Be a good boy and open your eyes for me, please, sweetheart,” I coaxed. He sighed, obviously not happy about it but doing what I asked, opening his eyes and glaring up at me. It was cute, especially because it was the farthest thing from intimidating. “Thank you. I have to go talk to the team. Do you want to sleep in here while I do that or come join us? You can sleep in the den if you prefer,” I offered. He arched a brow, dropping his head and resting against my chest again.

“Whatever you want,” he grumbled. I could tell that meant he didn’t want to be left alone and that he didn’t want to admit he was feeling clingy. I could also tell he didn’t want to make decisions. He was in a submissive mood. Correction: he was submissive.

“Then we have to get up. You can go back to sleep once we move into the den.”

“Five more minutes. Please?” he asked, pulling back and looking at me with puppy dog eyes.

I sighed but smiled down at him, giving into his request, “alright.” How could I possibly say no when he asks like that? He had me wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it. He smiled, enthusiastically snuggling back against me. “I love you, baby boy,” I whispered into his hair, kissing the top of his head.

“I love you too, si—” he cut himself off, realizing what he was about to say and stopping himself.

“You don’t have to address me as ‘sir.’ I don’t want you to do things solely out of fear instead of free will. You aren’t being disobedient if you keep using it, but you aren’t in any trouble if you don’t. There aren’t going to be any punishments if you slip up,” I explained gently.

“’M sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s nothing to apologize over. I love you, baby. So much,” I said with a smile, kissing his forehead.

His lips twisted into a mischievous grin, something crossing his mind that I couldn’t decipher. “Love you too, daddy,” he said, snickering as he let his bratty amusement take over. I bit my bottom lip, trying not to grin but failing miserably. _So that’s how he was going to be._

“Mischievous little minx,” I remarked.

He pulled his face out of my chest, his brow knitted in mock confusion as though he didn’t know what I meant. “No. I didn’t even do anything,” he protested, faking innocence like it was second nature. So, he wanted to play.

“Oh? You didn’t?” I asked, watching his face as he shook his head no, still trying to keep up his act. I leaned in and lowered my voice, gripping his chin and making him look at me. “Then look daddy in the eyes and tell me you didn’t, baby.” His eyes darted away, a blush creeping over his cheeks as he starts getting shy. _Busted._ “What’s a matter? Shy all the sudden because daddy knows when you’re trying to play with him?” I teased. He blushed harder, peaking up at me through his lashes. He mumbled something quietly and I grinned, “what was that? You have to speak up.”

He didn’t say anything, he just nodded slowly. It was astounding that he was still this shy despite everything. I wasn’t complaining. I wanted him as close to normal as he could possibly get. I placed a kiss on his forehead and shifted, sitting up and taking him with me. “Come on, baby. Let’s go join the others.” He got up, scrubbing at his eyes and waiting as I picked up my jacket and slung it over my shoulder. He followed behind me as we walked to the den, finding the others sitting on the couch and in the armchairs. They were all in a serious looking conversation, probably trying to figure out what was going on. They were profiling the situation.

“How’d you sleep, kid?” Morgan asked, directing his question to Reese and grinning. Reese just shrugged, not offering anything past that. I knew he was starting to retreat socially, meaning he was going to be less verbal and his verbal answers to things would be shorter than normal.

“He was out when I walked in,” JJ commented, smiling at Reese as we sat down on the sofa, Reese slotting into my side, his head resting on my shoulder.

“You two are absolutely adorable,” Garcia gushed, making Reese just arch a brow and then close his eyes.

I chuckled, putting an arm around him, my fingers rubbing small circles into his arm. “He’s still tired,” I explained. Reese just let out a small groan, grabbing my other hand and interlacing our fingers. Silence fell over us all, everyone collectively lost in thought.

“What’s this about, Hotch?” Prentiss asked finally, breaking the silence.

I sighed, shifting from personal to professional, going into explanation, “I’m taking a two-month sabbatical from the FBI. I can’t work right now knowing that Reese is struggling alone. He has two months medical leave before he has to go through the process of reinstatement, so I’ll be back when he is. Morgan will take over as temporary unit chief like he has before.”

Another beat of silence.

“You guys do know I’m still right here, right? Stop looking like you just got shot or something. You guys can handle this,” Reese remarked, scoffing at the collective looks of the team. I shot him a look, but he seemed to ignore me, rolling his eyes and then shutting his mouth. His tiredness was dragging his bratty side out, essentially breaking through all the conditioning from Stockholm. That and he was more reassured it seemed.

“Hotch, you better take care of him. We’ll hold down the fort but we’re going to need to know he’s ok,” Morgan said somberly.

I nodded, “I will, Morgan. Nothing I want to do more.”

Reese laughed, muttering something under his breath in French. “I’ll be alright. You guys better kick ass while we’re gone, though,” Reese snickered, waving off Morgan’s concern as though this was no big deal.

Morgan chuckled, “will do, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaron is hella sweet though. Was that my plan? Maybe. Hope you enjoyed dear reader ;)


	17. Impulsivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wanted to say I hated it. That I felt wrong for enjoying it. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I enjoyed that feeling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Self-harm, blood, Stockholm, D.I.D, intrusive thoughts/suicidal ideation, onset of depression, etc.  
> This is also where the possible trigger warning for an eating disorder might set in. There will be an avoidance of meals from this point forward, but no official diagnoses of an ED. Just fair warning. 
> 
> Enjoy even though I hate this chapter but won't redo it because I'm tired and it's got a solid word count.

“A primary function of art and thought is to liberate the individual from the tyranny of his culture in the environmental sense and to permit him to stand beyond it in an autonomy of perception and judgement.”  
-Lionel Trilling

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

It was late by the time we finally got left Rossi’s mansion, both Aaron and I thoroughly worn out. I didn’t have an exact fix as to the time as I didn’t have a watch or a smartphone that could tell me. All I knew was that it was late. It was late and I was tired and wanted to go to bed, preferably in Aaron’s arms or on his chest or in his lap. I felt clingy, which was usually a feeling that I hated, but I felt so afraid of myself that I was willing to cling onto the strongest relationship that I had. My mind flicked to my small interaction will Rossi and how he had pushed me to the brink of a panic attack. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t incredibly pissed off at the man for doing that. I didn’t understand the point of that. I didn’t understand his motives.

We pulled into the parking garage of Aaron’s building, memories coming hard and fast through my brain. A lot of memories. Almost all of them were good but I couldn’t help but feel slight pain by them. Guilt panged inside me and the thoughts of ‘I shouldn’t be here’ or ‘I don’t deserve to be here’ ran their acidic course. I felt out of place again and it felt like peoples eyes, whether real or imagined, were staring directly at me, thinking the exact same thing. Like everyone knew what I did and were judging me for it. I brushed my knuckles along my jawline nervously, the feeling of scruffy facial hair rubbing against my skin. That ever-present itch returned, scurrying under my skin as an invitation to metaphorically scratch it.

“Let’s go, baby boy. We are both exhausted,” Aaron ordered gently, stepping out of the car. I opened my door, stepping out and automatically starting to panic. This felt wrong. So, so wrong. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t meant to be free. I was a slave. An object. Property.

_Follow the rules. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow the rules. Be grateful for what you are given._   
_Follow the rules. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow the rules. Be grateful for what you are given._   
_Follow the rules. Be grateful for what you are given._

**_Will you please SHUT THE FUCK UP? Jesus Christ. There aren’t rules anymore. We are free, dipshit. Stop freaking out over the most simplistic concepts. You would think you’re a god damn moron, not someone with an IQ of 182._ **

_Wrong. You’re wrong. Everyone is wrong. I’m a slave. Less. Less than everyone. I shouldn’t be here. I’m not worthy of being here. I should be in the concrete room, in the dark, alone. This isn’t right. No. Fuck, no._

I felt bile rising in my gut, sickness spreading through me and adding to my physical suffering as well as my emotional suffering.

_You deserve to suffer. You are nothing. Nothing. You’re a disobedient bitch who killed his master. Master was good to you. Why did you fuck that up? He would understand what to do. He would be able to put you back in your place. You’re supposed to be under him. You’re his property. You’re property. Property._

The sound of the trunk slamming closed made me jump, my mind becoming hyperaware of the possible danger I could be in. I took on more defensive posture, wrapping my arms around myself and digging my nails into my sides. I couldn’t hurt myself because of the thickness of my hoodie but I could still grip myself tightly. I was trying my best not to shake as I slowly followed Aaron through one of the doors and into the building. We went through a back hallway, taking the elevator up to his floor, tension radiating off me the entire time. Tension that was about to snap and leave nothing but carnage in its wake. Aaron unlocked the door to his apartment, opening the door and stepping to the side. “We’re home, sweetheart.”

_Home._

I found that word somewhat ironic. There was no such thing as home for me. There was no feeling of safety in that concept anymore. That concrete room was the closest thing I had to a home. It was the only place that felt correct. It was the only place that didn’t make me feel off kilter.

I stepped into the dark apartment, moving off to one side of the entry way to allow Aaron in behind me. I looked around, making out things that were familiar in the dark; things that I recognized. Aaron flicked on the lights, lighting up the place and then showing me the space that was familiar. Everything was like it always had been. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, an odd mix of happiness and relief mixing with guilt and confusion, overwhelming me with ease and nearly taking me over the edge of panic.

Strong arms wrapped around me, holding me close and letting me weep quietly as I took everything in. I melted into them, trying to find some kind of calm in this terrifying situation. I finally started calming down a bit more, exhaustion rolling over me like a crashing wave as I tried keeping my eyelids open. It was hard when I was beginning to feel more comfortable. I felt comfortable, safe even, in Aaron’s arms. Aaron’s voice sliced through the air, his voice low and gentle as he spoke, “let’s get you to bed, little boy. You’re tired and you need rest anyway.”

I just nodded in agreement, letting Aaron lead me down the hall and into his bedroom. I kicked my slides off by the closet and walked over to the bed, tilting my head in slight confusion. I didn’t even understand why I was confused at this point. Aaron walked over to the bedside table, flicking on his lamp and lighting up more of the space. “What do you want to sleep in, baby?” he asked softly, looking at me as he waited for an answer. I looked down at the floor, shrugging. I was overwhelmed. So overwhelmed. Basic decisions seemed huge and I didn’t feel comfortable making them. It felt wrong to be treated like I was equal. I wasn’t equal. I was less. Less.

“How about you just sleep in boxers and a t-shirt,” he suggested, the words coming off as more of an order, though. He could read me. He knew. He understood, at least to some degree. I just nodded, slowly uncurling and taking the hoodie off, leaving me in my shirt. I held the hoodie out, letting him take it and hang it in the closet. I hesitated, feeling unsure baring more of myself to him. I didn’t want him to hate what he saw like I did. “You can sleep in sweats if you want, baby boy. Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable.” I thought about it. I made the choice not to wear sweats, slowly taking them off and leaving more of me exposed. Aaron took those, dropping them on the floor and then moving over to the bed, turning it down so I could slip into bed.

I looked from the bed to Aaron and back to the bed, waiting for permission to actually lay down in it and go to sleep. The sheets were a light cream, matching the other interior in the bedroom in that way Aaron liked so much. “You can get into the bed, sweetheart. Go brush your teeth first,” Aaron instructed, taking over before I broke down from how overwhelmed I felt. I just nodded, picking up the go bag that was meant for me and digging through it, finding the toiletry bag and snatching it up, taking it with me. I walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light and brushing my teeth quickly, avoiding my eyes in the mirror. I got it done quickly, packing everything back up as to not disturb the other man’s space and then exited the bathroom, packing the smaller bag in the bigger bag and then standing to the side of the room cautiously.

I examined the room, taking in every inch of the space, memorizing it, perfecting the picture in my mind for when all this eventually ended. When I finally let go, this is what I wanted to picture. I wanted a perfect picture. I sectioned the room off in my mind, falling into the minds adept skill of finding patterns and abusing it, reconstructing everything in my mind based off detail patterns. Aaron came back into the room, two bottles of water in his hand and a bottle of Tylenol. He had changed clothes, dark gray sweatpants clinging to his hips, a white t-shirt accentuating his athletic build. Aaron looked like a fucking Greek god. I could feel myself sinking into thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking, guilt slicing through me while memories of intense ecstasy played in my head.

I shook my head, physically trying to shake off lust but finding that to be a mistake as the throbbing in my head started getting worse. An overwhelming surge of rage and aggression coursed through my veins, my mind fighting as I wrestled with my alter. I blinked rapidly, gripping my head and digging my nails into my scalp, a pained groan escaping me involuntarily. It was as though the sudden emotional breakdown and the dark strain inside me heightened my senses, making me more susceptible to physical pain. I stumbled back a few steps, my back hitting the wall with a dull _thud_. I felt myself slipping, my control over my mind slipping through my fingers like sand. Benjamin wanted freedom. He wanted to be let out. He wanted to wreak havoc on my broken little world. I kept fighting, paying no attention to the muffled voice asking me what was wrong.

The anger broke free, but it was at myself rather than Aaron and everything I had been through. I had fucked everything up and now I was suffering more than I had been. I had a decent life in Maine. I was owned in Maine. The sudden rush of anger seemed to make Benjamin fall back into his little box, the danger lurking under the surface subsiding for now.

“Reese? Are you back with me? Can you hear me?”

_Wha—oh. Aaron._

“Mm hm. Ti-tired. S-Sorry. F-Fuck, sorry. Help, please,” I panted, my body going more limp by the second. The physical side of mental illness was almost as bad as the emotional and psychological elements. _Almost._ Aaron threw one of my arms over his shoulder, guiding me over to the bed and gingerly placing me on it. He opened the pill bottle and shook it, thrusting out his hand to give me the two red and blue pills that sat in his palm. I took them, popping them in my mouth and then taking the water from his hand and knocking them back, swallowing and then taking another drink of the water. I handed it back, my vision blurring and the room spinning as pain struck like lightening up in my head. My eyes fluttered open and shut, my head falling back and hitting the pillows as I was absorbed by pain. Torturous pain, not the kind I craved nor the type I had grown accustomed to. Pained whimpers spilled from my throat, every nerve in my body on edge.

“Is it your abdomen?” Aaron asked, flicking the overhead lights off and then sitting on the edge of the bed.

I shook my head a little. “Migraine… mm, h-hurts,” I choked out, feeling lightheaded and woozy. I felt like I was going to black out from the immense pain. Purple splotches clouded my vision, furthering my sick feeling. Fighting with another person living inside my head was already harming me. This was going to get worse. A hell of a lot worse. “God damn it,” I breathed, massaging my temples as I waited for the Tylenol to kick in. I really just needed to go to sleep.

“Do you need anything?” Aaron asked, trying to make himself useful. There wasn’t much he could really do to help this.

“Sleep,” I grumbled, letting out a deep exhalation.

“Ok. I’ll join you in a few minutes. Sleep well.”

“I’ll try. ‘Night Aaron.”

* * *

My eyes snapped open, my pulse threatening to rip out of my skin. The room was dark, moonlight breaking through the rain clouds outside and streaming through the window. I was breathing hard, my body dripping with sweat. I glanced to the side of me, finding Aaron dead asleep, his breathing deep and even. I sat up, slipping out of bed and stalking silently into the bathroom, closing the door and flicking on the light. I took my shirt off, dropping it on the floor and looking at myself in the mirror. I turned, studying the possessive scar that was carved into my skin.

_Cut. Cut. I need to cut. I need pain. Pain._

I opened one of the drawers, searching through them until I found some of Aaron’s extra shaving cartridges. I took one, opening it and taking pushing one of the blades out so it would cut through my skin at a better angle. I set it on the countertop, my fingers shaking as I tore off the bandages and threw them in the small trashcan under the sink. I brushed my fingers over the cuts I had already made, my nails digging into them and letting the blood start to leak out. I picked up the razor blade, teasing it over my right bicep and then down towards my forearm. I started cutting, being slow and meticulous in my cut placement. Six cuts joined the original four that were now steadily bleeding, blood dripping into the sink and onto the white countertop.

I let the razor slip from my hands and clatter onto the surface, my fingers running through my blood as it slowly dripped out of me. It was hypnotizing, my mind falling into a trance as dark curiosity danced through my mind and out of my veins. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in and out. I went back in my mind, twisted fear yet sadistic pleasure battling each other as the memories of cutting myself and stabbing another man stuck in the forefront of my mind. For once I understood how unsubs felt. I understood what they wanted and how terrifyingly wonderful it felt to watch the life seep from someone’s veins and onto cold, gray concrete. I hadn’t even really killed anyone. Benjamin had. But my mind still took in the feelings and held onto them, letting me replay them over and over and over again. Letting me bask in them.

I wanted to say I hated it. That I felt wrong for enjoying it. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I enjoyed that feeling. I took pleasure in both bleeding and watching others bleed from my own doing. I picked up the razor, toying with it. I flipped it around in my fingers and teased it back up my arm, watching as it became slick with blood and sweat. It felt _good._ This felt _right._ I felt my muscles starting to relax, the endorphins flowing freely and bringing with it temporary peace. Then something else began stirring inside me. I felt myself becoming aroused, blood still oozing from my cuts and splattering onto the stark white surface in front of me. I let out a growl, my pupils becoming blown and misty with deep ceded lust and unrivaled eroticism. I ignored it, finally dropping the blood covered razor in the trash and then turning on the sink, washing away the blood and cleaning my arm off. The wounds were starting to clot so I was fine with waiting for another minute or so before going back to bed.

I flicked the light off and then carefully opened the door, trying to make sure I didn’t make much noise. It didn’t seem to matter though, because Aaron was resting against the headboard, his lamp on and a book in his hands. He had been awake the entire time. Aaron closed his book, setting in his lap and then looking at me, his expression indiscernible. I swallowed, looking down at the ground in utter shame and defeat. My own impulsivity had gotten the better of me. Again.

“Come here,” Aaron instructed softly, setting his book on the bedside table and pushing the sheets down to free up space in his lap. I padded over slowly, my eyes flicking up to meet his before immediately flicking back down. I pulled my arm to my chest, cradling it as I hid the cuts from his gaze. With one hand he patted his lap, the other extended to pull me up and into it. I settled into him, keeping my arm turned and tucked into my chest so he couldn’t see them. So he wouldn’t have to see them. “Let me see them, Reese. You have no reason to hide these things from me,” Aaron murmured, waiting expectantly for me to obey his command.

I uncurled, looking away from the cuts on my arm as my lust slipped away and was replaced by intense self-hatred. He took my wrist in his hand, gently tilting my arm so he could get a better look at them. He didn’t say anything as he looked at them, examing them as if he was examining a case file. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, taking me by surprise. I had expected him to try and force conversation. I had expected him to be more visibly upset and disgusted. I was disgusted and becoming more frayed by the minute as I struggled to understand my position on anything going on in my head and in my life. Everything was just so confusing and exhausting. “Answer me.”

I tucked my head into the crook of his neck, “I just needed to. ‘M sorry. I know it probably disgusts you… that I probably disgust you. I just can’t… it’s like a drug for me. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not disgusted by you or by this. A little concerned, maybe, but not disgusted. I don’t like when you do this, but you are free to do it. It’s your body and it isn’t illegal. I wish you would come to me, though. Talk to me before you start hurting yourself. Please,” Aaron said in response, his voice soft and quiet.

“I just don’t want to be a burden for you… you’re already taking two months off to take care of me, and you shouldn’t have to do that. I shouldn’t have…” I trailed off, not letting the words leave my mouth.

“Don’t you dare apologize for getting yourself out of that. Ever. What happened to you was wrong,” he asserted confidently. I didn’t say anything, I just sat quietly, too scared to say anything. “You aren’t a burden to me. I choose to help and take care of you. You’re important to me.”

I closed my eyes, sighing as his arms wrapped around me and held me close to him. “Can we, um… can we go back to sleep?” I asked quietly, feeling incredibly timid.

“Mm hm. Do you want another shirt?”

“No… and can we, um… like…” I began, only to be cut off.

“Yes, you can sleep in my arms. Move over towards your side of the bed.”

I slipped off his lap, scooting towards the middle of the bed and flipping over so I was facing him. Aaron turned the lamp off and then shifted down, pulling me back into him and letting me wrap myself around him. His lips found my hair, letting me tuck into him and hide from impending realities. “Good night, little boy. Sleep well.”

I fell comfortably into sleep, my thoughts retreating into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gjegibfoafbofgbeognv i have no braincells left


	18. Flashback II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotch has a flashback. 
> 
> Please read author's note at the end of the chapter*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, vague descriptions of self-harm, etc.

“I firmly believe that respect is a lot more important, and a lot greater, than popularity.”  
-Julius Erving

* * *

_***2 Years Earlier*** _   
**Hotch’s POV**

_“We have to double up tonight due to lack of rooms,” I said dryly, tossing JJ a key and watching her and Prentiss disappear as they walked to the bank of elevators in the back of the hotel. I gave Dave a key, letting him have the only singular room, leaving me, Morgan, Reid, and Benson to figure out who’s rooming with who._

_Morgan sighed, reaching out to pluck a key from my fingers, “come on, genius.” Reid grumbled something back to him and followed, leaving me and Benson to share a room. He looked absolutely terrified out of his mind at the thought. He didn’t voice his concerns, however, instead walking behind the other two to wait for an elevator. I followed, go bag in hand. Morgan and Reid were having a small quarrel like they often did, annoying each other like siblings did. The elevator opened and we stepped inside, Morgan hitting the button for their floor and me hitting the button for ours._

_Reese pressed himself into the back corner of the elevator, his eyes on his fingers as he toyed with a ring, he wore around his left ring finger. It was a matte black band; grooves cut into it and painted a metallic silver to show off the words and a royal blue stone embedded in it. It was a class ring, his initials and graduation year worn proudly. I noted it was a college graduation ring rather than a high school ring. I wondered why considering most people only buy high school rings rather than college ones. People often buy things that are bigger for their college graduation._

_The elevator doors opened on Morgan and Reid’s floor, the both mumbling ‘good night’ and stepping out, Morgan slapping Reid on the back of the head as the doors closed. The small car fell silent, anxiety radiating off the young man behind me who was still pressed into the corner of the car. A few seconds later we were stepping out, Reese in front of me as I had motioned him out. I watched him walk, his footsteps betraying his unease and tightness. I had come to learn that it was partially because he was more than likely attracted to me. You could catch him stealing glances often and he often sunk into a more timid persona when I stepped into the same room as him, no matter how hard he attempted to hide it. He was trying to maintain professionalism and distance._

_Reese stood by our door, letting me unlock it and then move out of the way, motioning him inside again. He stood for a moment, as if profiling why I always make him walk in front of me. If he wasn’t so shy, then he would realize it was partially because I was watching his ass as he walked. It wasn’t my fault he bought well-tailored suits and tight-fitting jeans. It wasn’t my fault he trained himself like a soldier preparing for war, either. I would bump into him on his way back from the academy gym or hotels’ gyms after he worked out._

_Reese stepped into the room after I arched a brow at him, telling him to get his ass inside. He walked to the far side of the room, dropping his go bag on the mattress and then shrugging off his suit jacket and dropping it beside his bag. He was in a black suit, his vest a dark gray and his dress shirt black to match his slacks and suit jacket. His tie was stripped gray and black, a silver tie bar holding it in place. He looked more like a CEO than he did a field agent for the FBI. He unzipped his go bag, pulling out hangers for his suit and then taking out clothes to sleep in as well as a toiletry bag. He slipped the jacket on one of the hangers, dropping it back on the bag and then unclipping the tie bar and taking off his tie._

_He looked over to me, his look guarded and forced, “do you want to shower or anything, sir?”_

_“No. Go ahead,” I said, withdrawing my glock from my holster and walking over to the closet, opening the complimentary safe and setting it inside before doing the same with the gun in my ankle holster. Reese walked over, taking his own gun out of his holster and then dropping the clip out, pulling back the slide and checking the chamber before slipping the clip back in and flicking the safety on, handing me his gun carefully to put in the safe. He disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower running and a small groan making me chuckle._

* * *

_“Jackson Ridley, FBI!” Morgan shouted, everyone’s guns pointed at the unsub. He had a young teenage girl in front of him, a knife to her throat._

_“JUST FUCK OFF. LET ME DO MY JOB!” he screamed._

_“I can’t let you do that, Ridley. You know that. Just let the girl go and we can talk about this,” Morgan reasoned, taking another step in the unsubs direction. I watched Benson and Reid move around, trying to get a better angle, weapons trained on him as they moved._

_“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I NEED TO DO THIS! I NEED TO!” he screamed again, tilting the knife and pressing it to the girls throat. She was crying, sobbing, frozen in fear as he continued screaming at us. “YOU WON’T TAKE ME. EVER. AND YOU WON’T SAVE HER!” And then he suddenly moved, stabbing the girl through the chest and pulling the knife out to stab again._

_There was a gun shot and the unsub fell to the ground, dead before he ever made it there, the girl collapsing next to him, clutching her chest and blood spilled from her. Reese sprinted over, holstering his firearm and then kneeling next to her, his hands pressing against her chest to try and limit the bleeding. “I NEED A MEDIC!” Benson yelled, moving quickly as he whipped his shirt off and the pressed it to the wound to try and get better pressure. Morgan and I moved to his side, trying to help in anyway possible._

_I put my com to my mouth, “I need a medic inside. Hostage got stabbed but the unsub is dead.”_

_“Hey, hey, hey, hey. What’s your name? I need you to stay with me and fight with me alright? Just focus on my questions and keeping your eyes open. What’s your name?” Reese asked, looking down at the girl who was struggling to keep herself awake as blood gushed from the stab wound._

_“A-Ana,” she choked out, one of her hands coming up and gripping Reese’s that was still holding pressure on her wound._

_“Hey, Ana. My names Reese. I’m gonna help get you out of here but you need to fight with me, ok?”_

_“O-Ok,” she replied, her fingers digging into his hand and wrist._

_“Where do you want to go to college, Ana? Your mom said that you wanted to go to college,” Reese went on, trying to make sure she stayed alive by simply keeping her engaged and awake._

_“I w-want to go… wanna go to Stanford… my dad went there… want to be like him someday,” she said, the life quite literally draining out of her by the second._

_“Yeah? What did your dad do?” Reese asked before glancing back, “WHERE THE HELL IS MY MEDIC?”_

_“He… he was a… he was a lawyer,” she said weakly, her voice becoming weaker as her eyelids started fluttering open and closed. She was dying. Bleeding out rapidly._

_“Ana, fight with me. Stay with me, ok? Keep fighting. You’ve been so strong so just hold on for a few more minutes, alright? The medics should be here soon,” Reese kept on. I bit my lower lip, terrified to tell him she wasn’t going to make it. The medics were too far out._

_“C-Can’t keep going,” Ana mumbled, her eyes closing as her breath became shallower._

_“Yes, you can. You can, Ana, just keep focusing on our conversation,” Reese bit out, panic clear in his voice._

_“No… can’t… Reese?” the girl asked._

_“Yes?” he asked, panicking more as each second went by._

_“T-Tell my mom I love her. Please? Tell her I love her and that I’m going to miss her,” Ana whispered, her breathing starting to stop as blood dripped down the side of her body and onto the ground around her._

_“Of course, Ana. Of course I will.”_

_“Thank you…”_

_And with that, Ana died, Reese’s hands and shirt pressed to her chest, tears sliding down both their faces._

* * *

_Everyone was silent as we got back to the hotel, dismissing themselves and retiring to their rooms. Reese quietly walked into the room when I opened the door, immediately taking his gun off his belt and walking over to the safe, putting it inside._

_“This is the hardest part of the job, Benson. I’m here as well as the rest of the team should you want to talk about it,” I informed him. He just looked at me, his eyes desolate yet betraying the volatile emotions erupting inside him underneath. A hostage had died in his arms. It didn’t happen very often in the field, but it was hard for seasoned agents, meaning it would hit someone who was new even harder._

_“No thank you, sir,” he said, the words quiet but still coming out snappily even if he didn’t speak them that way. I watched as he took off the shirt someone in the PD had given to him considering his was taken by them as evidence as well as soaked in blood. He turned away, walking over to his bag and giving me a perfect view of his well sculpted back. He looked like a statue Michelangelo would have carved. While he wasn’t particularly broad, he was still well sculpted and toned. While it was wildly inappropriate given the situation, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to take him in this state and fuck him to take his mind off things. To make him so needy and pleasure him to the point he was in tears and tell him he was going to be alright. It was thought I catalogued in my mind to return to later._

_He pulled things out of his bag, walking to the bathroom and slamming the door. He was incredibly upset. He thought the hostage dying was his fault. I knew he was the one who put the bullet in the unsub’s head, but I could tell he was doubting himself, thinking he could have saved her if he pulled the trigger a second earlier. A heard the shower run and then I heard him talking to himself, his voice hushed and harsh._

_“Fucking idiot, Reese. God… someone DIED because of you. Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck. If you lose it in front of your boss, I swear to god…”_

_I raised my eyebrows, deciding I would pretend like I didn’t hear him when he came out. I changed quickly, dressing in sweats that were more comfortable then my suit and then taking out another case file and reading the contents. The never-ending burden of being unit chief._

_When Reese came back out his pupils were slightly blown, a new calm over him. I noticed the small lump in his pocket telling me his pocketknife was in it. He wouldn’t have gotten high off anything. He wasn’t stupid. I didn’t comment on it, instead taking his place in the bathroom to take a shower of my own. When I came out, he was asleep, his form shirtless on top of the sheets rather than under them. I could see his well-defined abs and chest, his body rising and falling as he slept. The royal blue gem on his ring glinted in the low light, his hand showing it off as he rested with his hand on his chest._

* * *

** Author’s Note **

Hey y’all… how y’all doing?

Sorry. Anyways. What’s up everyone? Hope you guys are well. I just wanted to bring attention to the tags that I recently added to the wall of tags already up. Homicidal Fantasies. The next chapter will unfold with a nightmare/dream featuring that. I’m toying with idea of making Benjamin (and then unfortunately Reese :/) an unsub. I haven’t fully decided if I will (I probably won’t because I don’t know how I would go about doing that well). But either way, just know that they will be graphic and dark. Blood play and knife play have also been added. I might not use them, but incase I do, there you go. I just don’t want people to read and then I trigger them with no warning. Please read with discretion. Thank you.

-mitchmatch24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here ya go


	19. The Images in My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The images of blood and someone’s lifeless body on the floor of that concrete room came to the forefront of my mind, sticking there as a final ‘fuck you’"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF HOMICIDAL FANTASY, blood, self-harm, suicidal ideation, PTSD, etc...  
> *This chapter is incredibly dark and graphic. If you suffer from homicidal fantasies or any issues discussed in my story, please seek help. Viewer discretion is advised.*
> 
> Not me throwin more trauma at Reese. Not me, wrong bitch.

“Pale Death beats equally at the poor man’s gate and at the palaces of kings.”  
-Horace

* * *

_The room is dark. Dark except for the very center of the room. The center was lit up in a small radius, illuminating the scene in front of me. In front of me is a man, thin and weary, hanging from a rafter by his wrists, his feet suspended about a foot from the floor. He’s nude, a blindfold over his eyes, shielding him from me. Blinding him from the scene I saw. The beautiful sight I saw. He was perfectly clean, and his skin was milky white, not a blemish or blister marring it. I could easily reach every inch of him, access every part of him. He was breathing, his breaths shallow and quick as I watched him squirm against his restraints, his body becoming panicked as he registered his situation._

_“No point in struggling, you know…” I murmured, watching as he writhed and tried desperately to get free. A wild spark of lust exploded under my eyes, my pupils becoming slightly blown as the sight screamed sadistic eroticism._

_“Please…” the man begged, his voice pleading and oozing desperation, “please, you don’t have to do this.” I just smiled, pushing off from where I was leaning against the wall and moving to where the man was suspended. I toyed with the knife in my hands, running my fingers carefully over the sharp edge. I took in a deep breath, licking my bottom lip with animalistic hunger and need. “Please…”_

_I chuckled this time, the sound smooth and dark and dangerous. “Haaa… it’s hilarious that you think begging will get this to stop,” I began, pacing around to the back of the man and leaning in to whisper in his ear, “nothing will make this stop. Nothing will stop me from doing this. But beg… I want to watch you break.” The man started shaking, chains clattering against the rafter as he began crying. I threw my head back, rolling it as I felt myself getting hard from the sound of his sobs and desperate pleads for me not to do this. I start palming myself through my jeans, letting out a small groan at the stimulation._

_“Please… please don’t do this… let me go, please…” the man sobs softly. I stepped around him, standing in front of him and watching him shake. I placed the tip of the knife against his abdomen and started running it up his body, careful not to cut into the skin. I ran it up until I reach his throat, holding it there and smirking as unforgiving power surged through my veins. I pressed in, barely slicing the skin and watching blood pool underneath the thin cut that ran from the base of the man’s throat to his chin. “S-Stop, please.”_

_“I’m not going to stop. I need this. You need it, you simply don’t know,” I retorted with a scoff. I reached down, unbuckling my belt and unzipping my jeans, slipping my hand inside and stroking my erection, moaning a bit more. “You have no idea how good this is going to feel for me…” I breathed, grinning ferally. I ran the knife back down his body, pausing at his abdomen and slowly applying pressure, slowly pushing into the man. He started screaming, bucking and writhing and trying to get away. I removed the knife, glaring at the back and then backhanding him angrily. “Stop fucking fighting or I’ll shove the knife down your throat and fuck you with it,” I warned, my voice harsh and enraged._

_“Please don’t do this… I have a family, friends… please,” the man screamed, begging more desperately._

_“That’s too damn bad, bitch,” I spat, running my knife up his thigh now and slowly reaching the area I wanted to slip my knife inside. I removed my hand from my dick, bracing it gently against his stomach and the pressing the knife against him, pushing in more forcefully, but still slowly enough to drag out a high-pitched scream. I groaned loudly, the sound shooting straight to my cock and making me harder. “Mm… fuck, that sound is so, so pretty,” I remarked. I pulled the knife out, the blade sliding out of his body like a butter knife through warm butter._

_Blood immediately started rushing out of the stab, slipping down the man’s body and dripping onto the floor. I watched it for a moment, my mouth watering as it pooled on the floor. I teased my knife to a few inches to the right, bracing and then pushing in again, smiling as the man screamed and groaned in pain. “PLEASE STOP, PLEASE!” the man screeched. I didn’t answer this time, my fingers brushing up his abdomen and feeling the blood slip through my fingers, the feeling utterly addictive and arousing. Precum leaked out of my cock, heat pooling in my stomach and groin._

_I walked back around the man to his back, setting the tip of the knife at the base of his neck and pressing in, slicing down his back and to the base of his spine as though I wanted to split him in half. The man continued screeching and shrieking and begging, his voice breaking from how loud and hard he was screaming. I momentarily stopped, swiping my fingers through some of his blood and wrapping my hand around my cock, stroking it into it and starting to edge myself to climax. “Now, now… you don’t want to pass out before the real fun begins, do you?” I taunted, my breathing starting to speed up as pleasure pulsed through the tip of my dick. Blood was pooling steadily on the floor, running down the man’s body. The sight was terrifyingly wonderful, making me harder and harder, my self-control slipping away._

_I started slicing the back of his thighs, leaving deep cuts and making the man writhe and scream until he physically couldn’t anymore. He just started sobbing, tears no doubt streaking down his face. I ran two fingers through his blood and paced around him, resting them on his lower lip and slipping them inside, letting him taste his coppery blood and clean off my fingers. I kept stroking myself, my knife slick with blood and sweat. I stopped on his left pectoral, carving into his skin again. The letters RJB started dripping with blood, a satisfied smile on my face and moaning as I neared my release. I plunged into the man’s skin more rapidly now, stabbing five more times as the life began leaving him through crimson colored blood. The sight of that pushed me over, cum shooting in thick, pearly ropes and landing on the mans thigh._

_“Now… now I’m done,” I panted and in one quick move sliced the man’s throat, severing his artery and putting him out of his misery, choked gasps and breaths forced from his lungs._

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

My eyes blinked open, sunlight streaming into my face, the room bright and clear. I was panting, the sudden feeling of slight wetness confusing me. I reached down, my fingers slicking through my own cum and making me panic. My heart sunk, fear tightening around my heart and clenching until I thought it might burst. A high-pitched whimper left me involuntarily, my body immediately beginning to shake. I was slipping. Slipping into somewhere I should not be going. Darkness was starting to consume me, slowly chipping away at my defenses and swallowing me whole.

My eyes went wide, the reality of this entire situation sinking in quickly, my mind becoming more and more panicked. This was homicidal. I had a homicidal fantasy and it had made me climax in my god damn sleep. I was becoming someone I never thought I would. I was turning into the men that I spent two years chasing and throwing into prison cells. One of my hands went to my hair, a soft sob leaving my chest as I finally broke.

“Reese… what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Aaron’s thick voice made me even more panicked as I cried, feeling incredibly humiliated and tormented.

“I k-killed him… oh god… oh my god, I fucking killed him, Aaron…” I sobbed, my fingernails digging in deeper as that feeling sunk in, “I killed h-him. H-He begged me an-and I fucking… oh my god, what have I done?” Aaron shot up, pulling me into an embrace as I cried, terrified.

“You did what you had to do to get out of that, Reese. You did what you—”

“NO! No, you d-don’t understand,” I wailed, trying to push him off, “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!”

Aaron’s grip got tighter as he tried to calm me down. “Shh, shh, no. It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s over. What he did to you was wrong, baby. You did what was right,” Aaron explained, not understanding that I wasn’t talking about _that_. While I felt guilty for that in my own way, this was different and much more alarming in my mind.

“No, no, no, no…” I whispered, that itch returning inside me. I started clawing at my wrists, trying to get some sense of relief. Trying to find that sweet rush of endorphins and euphoric high I craved so, so often.

“No. Reese, stop. Stop,” Aaron ordered, trying to grab my wrists. I struggled against him, trying to push him off and away.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” I yelled, although it seemed to fall on deaf ears. I kept clawing at him, trying to get him to let me go.

“Reese, stop. Stop fighting with me and stop trying to hurt yourself and I’ll let you go,” he explained calmly. I shoved at him, making him fall to his side and giving me the chance to move. I tried to get away but failed, his arms coming around me and holding me like steel bands, flipping me so I was trapped under him, his legs straddling me and his hands pinning me wrists to the bed. I kept struggling, writhing underneath him as my heart raced, the only thing racing through my mind being the need to get away, the need to bleed, and the thought that I dreamed about killing someone and got off on it. “Stop fighting me, please. Just calm down. Calm down, Reese and I’ll let you go. Just breathe.”

“N-No! No, Aaron, no. Get off… I need you to get off. Get away from me,” I snapped, trying to buck him off to no avail. Emotions broke free, overwhelming me and making me feel even more humiliated then I felt before. Tears fell faster, rolling down my face as I exerted myself to the point of exhaustion, the adrenaline starting to die down. “I just want you to get away from me, please,” I begged, openly crying now.

“I can’t until you calm down and tell me you aren’t going to try and hurt yourself,” Aaron said softly, remaining calm as I broke down underneath him.

“I need to… you don’t understand what I- what I did,” I cried.

“You can explain once you calm down, ok? I just need you to calm down… just calm down.”

“I just want it all to stop… I didn’t… I fucking killed him. He begged me to stop, Aaron! He begged me and I killed him anyway! I listened to him scream! Fuck, I didn’t even care! I just want it all to stop, Aaron, please! Please just make it stop,” I cried, pleading with him as though he could help me. My throat tightened as though I swallowed razor wire, my breathing coming out in hiccupping sobs.

“Reese look at me. Look at me,” Aaron commanded. I looked at him, my vision blurred from the tears in my eyes. “Tell me you’re not going to hurt yourself or try and fight me and I’ll let you go.”

“I-I’m not going to hurt me or y-you,” I reiterated, still sobbing hard. His hands let go of me and he slipped off me, pulling me with him and settling me in his lap, his chest at my back as I cried.

“Shh, shh, shh… it’s ok. You’re ok. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Just calm down and breathe. You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Just focus on calming yourself down and we can figure this out. You didn’t do anything wrong… you’re so strong. You’ll get through this. We can figure this out, baby, I promise,” Aaron cooed, his chest vibrating with each word against my back.

I shook my head, “no we can’t! He’s fucking dead and it’s all my fault! I can’t believe… god! Why!? Why did I do that? I’m so sorry. I’m sorry! No, no, no… GOD DAMN IT!”

“Shh… it’s all over. It’s over. You did the right thing. Just calm down and we can talk it out, baby. We can figure this out. Just calm down. Calm down,” he soothed, his voice calm and firm as I continued to break down, sobs racking my body as the imagines in my head attacked me over and over and over.

“I c-can’t… they won’t stop. Aaron, please just make them stop. I just want it to stop,” I begged, sounding more and more desperate. That only seemed to make it worse.

**_“Please don’t do this… I have a family, friends… please!”_ **

“NO! GOD NO! STOP, STOP!” I screamed, thrashing in Aaron’s grip. His arms came around me, holding me wrists so I couldn’t get physically violent again.

“Calm down, Reese. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

The images of blood and someone’s lifeless body on the floor of that concrete room came to the forefront of my mind, sticking there as a final ‘fuck you’. I kept thrashing and begging and crying until I was so physically exhausted, I couldn’t cry or scream or struggle, my body going lax in Aaron’s arms as my cries turned to hiccups and then to silence. The tears stopped flowing but the remaining ones rolled down my face as I closed my eyes, letting out one final whimper and just going silent.

“There you go… calm down. It’s over. What happened?” Aaron asked, his voice quiet and calm.

“I k-killed him…” I whispered; my voice gravel like from how much I had screamed.

“Why?”

“I don’t… I d-don’t kn-know,” I replied. I knew how stupid it would be to admit I had a homicidal fantasy. It would get me ripped away from everyone. From everything. I still needed more time. Just a little while longer.

“Ok… you don’t have to know, baby. You don’t have to explain. Can you tell me how your feeling?”

“Tired. Just really tired. I c-can’t keep doing this. My mind is tearing itself apart and I don’t know what to do. What do I do, Aaron? How do I fix this?” I asked in a hoarse whisper, sagging against him.

“I don’t know, baby, but we’re going to get some help. We’ll figure this out. You’ll get through this. What do you need?”

“Need you,” I murmured, my head falling against his shoulder as I started to go to sleep, too physically exerted to try and keep myself awake.

“Ok… ok. Just go to sleep, baby boy,” he whispered, sliding me off his lap and laying me down on the bed, his arm around my chest as I fell into the abyss of sleep.

* * *

I roused from sleep sometime later, my eyes opening slowly to the light streaming through the window. I was still sticky from my earlier climax and from sweating during my struggle with Aaron. I closed my eyes, letting out a deep breath. I still felt utterly exhausted and confused. I hated feeling that way but there was nothing I could really do about either until I sorted through my thoughts and made sense of them. My arms were around the comforter as though I was holding a person, so I simply dropped my head forward, nuzzling into it and closing my eyes.

I heard a loud knock come from the other room and the door open, Aaron’s voice mingling with others that seemed familiar. I couldn’t really tell from where I was. I didn’t want to move to find out, either. I heard the bedroom door open, making me roll over and glance at who was looking at me. It was Aaron. He came into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey, baby boy. How are you feeling?” Aaron asked, perching on the edge of the bed, his hand stretching out and rubbing my arm. I just shrugged, yawning. “JJ and Reid are here. They came to drop your meds off if you want to see them.” I looked at him with pleading eyes, not wanting them to see me like this. I was too embarrassed and disheveled for them to see me right now. “You don’t have to see them right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell them your too tired. They’ll understand. Do you need anything?” I just looked at him like he grew two heads, my mind so exhausted and confused. I didn’t get an opinion. I was property. My opinion didn’t matter. My opinion was as worthless as I was. “Answer me, Reese,” Aaron coaxed.

“Can I take a shower?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah. You can use my stuff if you want or you can use the stuff in your bag. I’ll get you some clothes,” Aaron said, standing and moving to the closet. I rolled out of bed, walking into the bathroom and turning the water on. I stripped out of my boxers, grimacing at them and tossing them in the hamper to be washed later. Aaron walked into the bathroom, dropping some clothes on the counter and taking a towel and hanging it on the bar by the shower for me. He left as quickly as he came in, giving me privacy and going on to deal with JJ and Spencer.

I stepped into the shower, trying not to get my stitches soaking wet in the process. The water was scalding hot, but I didn’t care, letting the water burn away the grossness of my dream and subsequent behavior after the fact. I picked up Aaron’s shampoo, squeezing some into my palm and then massaging it into my hair. It was a masculine scent, meant to mimic the smell of cedar it seemed. I washed the shampoo out of my hair, the water making me wince from how hot it was. I finally turned the temperature down, letting colder water soothe my burning skin. I showered somewhat quickly, smiling as I went about washing the memories off and replacing them with nicer thoughts. I smelt like Aaron.

_I like that. Should I feel bad about liking that? Should I feel disobedient? Am I betraying Master? What should I think? No. Don’t think. You aren’t allowed to have an opinion._

I shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, taking the towel off the bar and drying myself off. I dried off my hair as best I could and then hung the towel back up, searching through the clothes folded on the bathroom vanity. I picked up the boxers, pulling them on and then picking up the gray sweatpants and pulling them on as well. An olive-green t-shirt was next and a black hoodie. My face scrunched up in confusion before a smile spread across my face. He had kept my clothes. He had kept all my stuff except my toiletries and that was probably because he used them.

I walked out of the bathroom, padding out of the bedroom and into the living room to find Spencer and JJ still there talking to Aaron. I went over to the couch, letting them have their conversation and flopping on top of it, closing my eyes.

“Hey Reese!” Spencer greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi,” I replied, my voice timid and soft. I felt tired still but more refreshed from getting cleaned up physically.

“I, uh, brought you some books because you can’t do anything extremely physical right now. Here,” Spencer said, coming over to me as he searched his messenger bag and pulling out four books. He handed them to me but I didn’t take them, looking to Aaron subconsciously for permission.

He smiled, nodding, “you can have them.”

I smiled, looking back at Spencer and taking the books. I narrowed my eyes at one of the titles, slightly confused as to why he was giving it to me. “This is in French, Spencer,” I said, voice laced with confusion.

He nodded, “Hotch said you spoke French so I figured you might want something different.”

“Yeah, _speak_ French. And even then, I’m not fluent. I can have conversations but somethings I still don’t know,” I retorted, cocking my head as I looked through the other titles. One book was around 900 pages.

“Well, now you can learn,” Aaron commented. I shot him a glare and then looked back at Spencer, smiling at him.

“Thank you, Spencer. I appreciate it,” I murmured quietly. Spencer just smiled and nodded, walking back over to JJ.

“We’ll get out of your hair. Get better, Reese. We miss having you around,” JJ said, a sympathetic smile on her face. I nodded, waving as Aaron walked them to the door and let them out.

Aaron came over to me, sitting on the couch, one of his legs stretched out. I put the books on the coffee table, grimacing in slight pain as I did. I shifted, moving up and then laying on Aaron’s chest, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He chuckled, his arms coming around me as he kissed the top of my head. I smiled into his chest, letting out a small noise of contentment. “Feeling clingy, little boy?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfectly fine with me, baby boy. You need to eat something and then take your meds,” he explained. I groaned, unexcited about that thought. That mean getting up and it would mean having to come back to the issue of eating. I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t deserve food. Especially not right now. After what I…

“You will eat something. You can’t take painkillers without having something in your stomach. It will make you sick,” Aaron said authoritatively.

“Then I won’t take the painkillers,” I shot back.

Aaron let out a disapproving growl, making me look up at him with puppy dog eyes. “That won’t work. You will be eating, and you will be taking the painkillers. No arguments. The one thing you will not be allowed to do is avoid taking care of yourself,” he admonished.

“But I—”

“No buts. If you want to talk about why you feel uncomfortable eating, that’s ok, but you will still be eating something,” he asserted, leaving no room for arguments.

I nodded, unhappy about it but dealing with it, nuzzling back into the crook of his neck. “Ok,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around him.

“Good boy,” he praised in a whisper, kissing my temple and rubbing his hands up and down my clothed back. I smiled against his neck, closing my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. Anyways-
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	20. Off Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I felt so off. Everything was off. Everything just wasn’t how it should be, and it was all my fault."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: intrusive thoughts, avoidance of eating, stockholm, scars, mentions of abuse/sexual slavery, etc. The same old shit. 
> 
> "Control" by Halsey was the main inspiration for this chapter. Hope you enjoy.

“Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.”  
-William Jennings Bryan

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

“Good boy,” Aaron praised in a whisper, his hands running up and down my clothed back. I just sighed, keeping my eyes closed as he rubbed my back. A feeling of unease left me, but I knew better than that. I knew that it would come back; I knew it was lurking under the surface like a predator stalking prey, waiting for the next moment of weakness. It could wait patiently, and it would, smiling at me cruelly as it waited and waited and waited. I felt like I was going insane. I felt like I was going to rip apart at the seams. I felt so confused and disconnected and so, so exhausted by it all. I didn’t know how much more I could give, and I had barely been back to ‘normal’ a week. How was I going to continue? How would I ever go back to normal? When would this end?

I opened my eyes, sorrow and numbness spreading through my entire body and mind, consuming anything and everything in its path like wildfire. “Why?” I asked, my tone devoid of emotion.

“Why what?”

“Just… why? Why is life like this?” I asked, trying to find an answer to my own question but coming up blank. There wasn’t an answer. Would there ever be an answer? Probably not.

“I don’t know, Reese. I wish I did but I don’t. I wish things were different,” Aaron murmured. I closed my eyes again. I wanted to scream. Not from overwhelming feeling but from the complexity of my feelings and how contradicting they were.

Words left me before I really processed them and realized I said them aloud. “You should be scared of me,” I whispered, opening my eyes and feeling another piece of my soul slip and shatter on the floor. I was slowly dying. Slowly slipping into dark and meaningless existence. Slowly disappearing into nothingness. Slowly…

“Why do you say that?” Aaron queried. I didn’t answer. My silence was my answer. I let the silence fill the space. It reflected everything, didn’t it? It reflected my own emptiness and loss of self. I wasn’t myself and I didn’t think I would ever get to be myself again.

“I died in that room, Aaron. You’ll find that out soon enough. I’m not the person you knew,” I said numbly, my eyes catching his and looking into them. I was hollow. Empty. A shell. An object.

“That isn’t true.”

“Isn’t it?”

Those deep brown eyes finally showed their panic and fear, a dark piece of me stirring and laughing wickedly, satisfaction surging in that shard of myself. Fear swam underneath his irises, as if they were begging me to stop. Begging me not to go. Begging me to become someone I wasn’t. I mean was I really myself? Was I me? Who was I? Was I in control of myself and who I was or was I simply someone else’s to use?

“No.”

That word was spoken with such coldness it sent a shiver up my spine. I was already weighing on him, starting to scare him. Starting to tear him apart and break him, just from existing alongside him. It didn’t matter. Soon enough I would be gone. Soon enough this would be done. I just needed a little more time. I just needed more time to become fully resigned to what I needed to do. Soon enough I would leave, and everyone would be able to be happier. I would be able to rest, and everyone would be able to move on. I was terrifying everyone, hurting everyone, tearing everyone apart. I wasn’t going to hurt anyone else. Never again. Never again. Never again.

**Never. Again.**

I closed my eyes again, resting my head on his chest and letting out a deep exhalation before carefully sliding off him and standing. I moved on autopilot, taking the hoodie and shirt off my head, dropping them on the couch. He looked at me, confused. I slid a finger under my waistband, pulling down just enough so he could see the “WW” carved into my skin. His mouth went slightly agape, his eyes softening and showing off sickening pity. I narrowed my eyes, disdain crossing my face before dissipating as it was swallowed up by my numbness. He was struggling, speechless at the sight of second marking of Master’s ownership over me. “Christ…”

I let go, hiding the scar again and picking my shirt up, putting it back over my head to hide its twin. I put the hoodie on next before looking at him, a singular tear sliding down my face. I finally sat back down, laying on top of him again and closing my eyes, hiding how they had glassed over as I locked myself away inside my head for the sake of protection. I spoke again, the words cracked and almost inaudible, “I’m marked, Aaron. I belong to someone else. I’m someone else’s property. I am nothing.”

A labored breath left him, his composure slipping as he took all of that in. “You’re not property. You’re a person. Your own person. Those marks mean nothing,” Aaron said cautiously. I opened my eyes and looked at him, a tear of his own sliding down his face. My face fell. I had hurt him.

“Oh my god, Aaron. I’m so sorry. No. Please don’t cry over me. It isn’t worth it,” I pleaded, but the words still felt foreign. Like I didn’t actually mean them. That scared me. I was scared of myself. Everything was so terrifying and wrong. It was all wrong. Wrong.

**Wrong.**

He wiped his eyes, a sorrowful smile ghosting his lips. “It is, though Reese. I hate that you think like this and that this was all caused because of my own stupidity and selfishness. Yet another person I love has fallen victim to my career. When does it end?” Aaron said, fighting his tears. I didn’t know what to say as my heart cracked open, tears pooling in my own eyes from his pain. I understood what he meant and what he felt. I understood the guilt and pain. I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing, my arms wrapping around his chest and hugging him, my head on his chest as we both tried not to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Aaron replied, “I’m sorry for doing this to you.”

“You didn’t do it, Aaron. You saved me; you just didn’t know it. You were the only person who wanted me. You still want me, and I seriously can’t understand why. And I can’t help but feel guilty about it because I’m not worthy of your love or kindness… I’m nothing. I’m just an object and that’s all I’ve ever been and all I’ll ever be. I’m not a victim of you or your career. I’m not even a victim. I deserved what happened to me,” I explained, becoming emotionless again.

“No, you di—”

“Aaron. Please, just let it go. Please.”

I was surprised when he did, silence falling over us. I could feel us becoming more distant by the second, coldness and pain growing between us like thickets. That hurt more than the scars. It wasn’t meant to hurt… was it?

“What do you want to eat?”

 _“A bottle of whiskey and a bullet”_ is what I wanted to say. I opted against it for obvious reasons. I shrugged, “what do you want? I really don’t care. I… I don’t like making decisions. Feels wrong.”

“Pizza?” he offered, obviously not wanting to try too hard. I just nodded, fine with that because I wasn’t going to eat very much anyways. I just felt tired. I just wanted to sleep. To sleep forever. I closed my eyes, nuzzling my head into his chest and sighing, guilt twisting in my gut and stabbing me repeatedly. I could feel another headache building. More stress tearing through me, weighing on me. I scrubbed at my face, letting out a tired whimper. Aaron’s hand came down, his fingers brushing over my facial hair, or at least the start of it. I hadn’t shaved yet. I didn’t know if I was going to, but I really hated the stubble. It didn’t work for me. He just smiled warily, letting out a tired laugh.

“What?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

“You usually aren’t the one sporting facial hair between the two of us. I can’t see you with it,” he explained.

I narrowed my eyes. “Afraid I’ll look better with it than you or something?” I asked, making a half-hearted attempt at a joke.

“You might,” he said, shrugging. I rolled my eyes, disagreeing vehemently. His fingers dug into my sides suddenly, making me flinch and squirm. I tried to smack his hand away, but it didn’t work, he kept doing that, making me writhe and squirm and try and get away. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked wickedly, hooking his legs around mine to hold me to him.

I started laughing involuntarily, aware of how sore I was as I tried to get away. “S-Stop! Stop, A-Aaron, p-ple—ah—please!” I begged, thrashing around and grimacing a bit as I laughed a little too hard.

“No,” he said simply, enjoying making me squirm.

I retaliated by trying to smack him again. “Don’t make me call you daddy to get you to stop, you jerk!” I warned, still laughing hysterically.

“I still wouldn’t stop, baby boy. You need to learn how to laugh again. I’m just helping you out,” he said, mocking innocence.

“Aaron Michael Hotchner, I swear to—fuck, ow—I swear to god, I will get Morgan down here and he will kick your ass for me!” I threatened.

“I can take him,” Aaron laughed as I tried pushing off of him to no avail, collapsing back onto his chest.

“A-Aaron please,” I pleaded, tears leaking out of my eyes as he abused sensitive areas and dug his fingers into them.

“Nope.”

I looked up at him with pleading eyes, “daddy please, fuck, please stop.” He stopped, laughing himself as I started to try and calm my breathing, my chest heaving from how hard I had laughed. I felt sore and in slight pain. I really shouldn’t be laughing that hard before my stitches healed. “Told you,” I breathed, “told you, you would stop.” He laughed, bringing his fingers up and running them through my hair.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Aaron teased, making me glare at him. He laughed harder at that, making me glare even harder. “Haaa… god. I’m sorry, you’re just aren’t intimidating. You’re too sweet.”

“I will make you sleep on the couch,” I muttered, looking at him dead in the eye.

“No, you wouldn’t,” he countered in disbelief.

“You wanna bet?” I asked incredulously.

“Let me rephrase that,” he said, leaning down and gripping my chin between his fingers, “you are _not_ going to kick daddy to the couch tonight, are you, little boy?”

My eyes widened but I knew what he was doing. “You don’t fight fair,” I grumbled, looking away out of shyness as a blush bloomed across my face.

“Who said I fight fair?” he asked teasingly, laughing at how flustered I was. I opened my mouth to rebuke his point but couldn’t find a response, finally just closing my mouth and glaring again. He ruffled my hair, making my face scrunch up in disdain. “I would love to continue messing with you, but I have to order a pizza.”

I just let out a small whine, burying my head in his chest and gripping his sides tightly to voice my opposition to the idea of him moving. “No,” I whined into his shirt.

“Yes. You have to eat something, and pizza sounds incredibly good to me,” Aaron shot back.

“No. Not moving,” I complained.

“Baby boy, I will physically move you,” Aaron warned, laughing.

“WHY? I just want to lay here. It’s not my fault you’re really comfy to lay on top of!” I whined in protest.

“Because you require food to function, believe it or not and I am hungry, so therefore you must move so I can order a pizza,” Aaron explained.

“That’s a stupid reason! It’s entirely overrated! My comfort while laying on top of you is way more important, therefore I am _not_ moving from where I am laying,” I said assertively.

“ _Baby boy_ …” Aaron said in that warning tone.

I just laughed, finding it funny that he thought it was going to work, “ _daddy_ …”

“Alright, that’s it,” Aaron said, grabbing me and pushing forward, picking me up and standing with me in his arms. I grabbed onto him so I wouldn’t fall and then winced at how he was holding me. He put me down immediately, “sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just upset that you had the audacity to move me from laying comfortably on top of you,” I complained, smiling at him. He rolled his eyes, kissing me on the forehead and then moving into the kitchen to retrieve his phone. I collapsed back down on the couch, my abdomen smarting at me from the sudden movement. I picked up one of the books, reading the title and flicking through it. _The Untold History of the United States. Oliver Stone._ I didn’t jump directly into reading because the book was 900 pages and I didn’t have the energy to start a book that was 900 pages. I dropped the book back on the coffee table and threw my head back against the couch, closing my eyes. I heard Aaron placing his pizza order on the phone and then tuned him out. I fell into thought, taking in the lightheartedness of the past few minutes after the darkness, trying to hold onto it for when I left.

The couch dipped and Aaron sat back down, pulling me with him and laying me back down on his chest. He smiled down at me, “pizza’s on the way.”

“I’m thrilled,” I deadpanned, trying to portray how much I didn’t enjoy the idea of eating. I rolled my eyes when he glared, telling me not to argue with him. “Aaron, I really don’t need anything. I’m fine,” I protested, picking a fight anyway.

“No, you’re not. You’re underweight and you need food. I’m not going to let you avoid food until you drop dead,” he insisted, making me let out a pissed off growl. I was getting angry.

_Why? Why am I getting angry over this? There isn’t anything to be angry about. Is there? What the hell is happening?_

“If I tell you I’m fine, then I’m fucking fine,” I growled, narrowing my eyes and getting defensive.

“And you’re lying,” Aaron shot back, taking on a more defensive stance himself.

“Am I?” I countered, pushing myself off to create physical distance. I was scared I might try and hurt him if I lost control of my rage. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to create a feeling of security. I suddenly felt extremely unsafe and insecure, the feeling of walls closing in creating more hysterical panic and throwing me even more off balance.

_I shouldn’t be here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be in my room and waiting for Master. I shouldn’t be here. This is wrong. I am wrong. This isn’t how this is supposed to work._

“Reese, calm down.”

I whipped my head around, that setting me off more than it should have. “Calm down? Calm down!? I am calm, you fucking whack ass! As calm as I can be in place I don’t fucking belong, surrounded by people telling me things that throw me into an emotional whirlwind every fifteen fucking minutes!” I roared. My breathing picked up, that tight band around my chest starting to squeeze and push me into another panic attack. I could feel myself trembling, but I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or from fear.

_Need to get away. Need to get away. Need to get away. Need to get away and get somewhere safe._

I started backing up, trying to put as much space between me and Aaron as I physically could without leaving the room. My eyes were wild and full of ignited passion and anger, a storm raging within them. Aaron stood, taking a step towards me but stopping when I took three steps back and hit the wall and then started looking for ways out of the room and for things I could use as possible weapons.

_Never again. Never again. Never again._

“Reese… I need you to listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to try and attack you. I can stand here as long as I need to. Just talk to me. Let’s figure this out,” Aaron said, acting like he was talking an unsub off the edge. Is that what he saw in his mind when he saw me? A crazy ass unsub with some axe to grind? No point moving forward if that’s what he saw.

_Pointless. Worthless. Disobedient. Idiot. Pathetic. Weak. Stupid._

“What’s there to talk about?” I asked, my voice losing hostility as fear and panic set in, blindsiding my anger and wrestling it for dominance.

_Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic._

“Why are you scared? What scared you?”

“I’m not fucking scared!” I yelled, my voice wavering as I tried to convince myself of that. I was bluffing, trying to make myself seem like less of a good target.

“Yes, you are. You’ve backed away from me to the point you have nowhere to go. You’ve already looked around for ways to get out of the room and to somewhere you deem safer. You’ve looked at three different objects in the room you could use as a weapon incase things turn physical. You won’t meet my eyes, you’re shaking, and your voice keeps changing pitch when you speak due to fear,” Aaron articulated, going on when I didn’t try and rebuke his claims, “you are scared. What is scaring you? If you tell me then I can try and fix it, but I can’t do much unless you communicate.”

_Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._   
_Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._

He took another step forward, making my eyes widen as fear set in and panic screamed at me to move and to get away. To do something. To do anything. “I’m not going to hurt you. Keep your eyes up here, sweetheart. Look at me,” Aaron instructed, being cautious as he tried to distract me enough to get close to me. I looked at him, my fingernails digging into my sides to the point of pain, my ribs and abdomen smarting at me as I breathed too hard from panic. “There you go… that’s good. Just stay focused on my eyes. Can you do that?” he asked, taking another two steps forward as he started closing distance between us. I nodded slowly; my eyes wide. Blood and adrenaline rushed through my veins, my pulse sporadic and my heart beating fast, threating to rip out of my chest.

_Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._   
_Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._   
_Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given. Follow orders. Be grateful for what you are given._

“Can you tell me what scared you?” Aaron asked, slowly inching forward. I felt like a skittish deer who got cornered by a hunter. I shook my head no, pressing my back as far as I could into the wall. “Breathe, baby. Deep breaths, remember? Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby. Nothing. Just try to calm your breathing and relax,” he coaxed calmly, taking another step forward. He was going to be on top of me if he took a few more. My mind was screaming at me to bolt, to run away. To get away from the potential danger. But I stayed put, the consequences of disobedience vivid in my mind. If I ran, he would punish me. Right? That’s how it worked before, that’s how it works now. Isn’t it?

He took another step, his eyes locked on mine and reading me like a book. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to bolt, either. I felt my knees weakening, my body shaking more openly now. He took the last few steps more quickly, standing directly in front of me but not touching me. “Can I touch you?” he asked. I just stared at him.

_You’re property. Your opinion doesn’t matter. You don’t deserve an opinion. You are nothing. Weak. Worthless. Pathetic. Disgusting. Useless. Pointless._

“I am going to touch you,” he corrected, taking charge more firmly and grabbing my forearms, pulling me into his chest and then slowly walking me back towards the couch. I curled up into a ball on the couch, trying to make myself as small as possible and to protect as much of myself as possible, my body tensing and bracing for physical violence. For a physical response. “No, no, no. Lay down straighter, baby. You could tear your stitches like that,” Aaron ordered firmly. I immediately did what he said, uncurling and letting out a small sigh as pain left me from how I had curled up.

His hand came down and I braced, preparing for the sting of his palm connecting with the side of my face. Instead, his fingers found my hair, brushing through the unkempt strands and massaging my scalp. I closed my eyes, reveling in that feeling. It was like silent praise for me.

_You don’t deserve praise. You deserve pain. You deserve to be hurt and abused, you reckless, meaningless whore._

My breathing started to come back down to normal, that tight band loosening and allowing me to come down from my panicked haze. I felt so off. Everything was off. Everything just wasn’t how it should be, and it was all my fault. Aaron leaned down, kissing me on the forehead. “Just take some time to calm down, sweetheart. We can talk after dinner. You’ve had enough for right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	21. Veil of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wondered for a fleeting moment if Aaron could see the desolation in my eyes. If he was watching me die slowly as I was ripped apart at the seams. Could he see the metaphorical carnage? Could he feel me slipping through the world’s fingers? Could he see the dark shadows that clouded all hope and left me standing under the veil of darkness? Could he see me clawing for survival?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicidal thoughts/intrusive thoughts, talk of sexual slavery, panic attacks, etc. Same old, same old. 
> 
> Sorry it took so long to update. I've hit a bit of a wall. I'm probably going to take a one to two week break so I can just have some time to put out quality work. Thank you for your patience and all the support. It really means a lot.

“Knowledge is power. Information is liberating. Education is the premise of progress, in every society, in every family.”  
-Kofi Annan

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

“Just take some time to calm down, sweetheart. We can talk after dinner. You’ve had enough for right now,” Aaron murmured, walking into the kitchen to do something or other. That itch came back. The feeling of need came back. The yearning to cut into my skin and let the hormones reset themselves through the draining of crimson colored blood.

_**Just do it. No point in trying not to now. The man thinks we’re crazy anyway, thanks to you. Fucking idiot.** _

My head was starting to throb again, and my abdomen was starting to ache. The ache was dull but severe, never leaving me alone and reminding me of all my mistakes. What I had done. What I had become. What I was destined to become. I wanted to cry but I didn’t all at the same time. What was the point in crying anymore? It was simply another sign of weakness, helplessness, and just another sign of how pathetic I had become. I felt my throat tightening as I fought to contain my emotions and hysterical confusion. Everything seemed so simple yet so complicated.

_Just end it. End it. End all of this nonsense and let everyone move on for the better. No one is going to want to keep a broken, pathetic whore around in the long run. Might as well kill yourself now. Just end it you stupid little bitch._

A small whimper pierced my throat as a small cry ran through my body, tears of exhaustion and immense frustration and sorrow pooling in my eyes. I wiped them away immediately, a voice screaming in my head that I didn’t deserve to cry. I didn’t deserve to feel what I was feeling.

_This is all your fault anyways. You killed Master; this is your fault. All of it. Stupid little bitch. You couldn’t be obedient to the man who deserved your obedience and now you have to deal with the fallout. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Pathetic fucking idiot._

I felt so tired. I just wanted to sleep. Sleep was an escape. At least for a little while. It was better than reality. I closed my eyes, rolling over to face the inside of the couch and wrapping my arms around myself, trying to imagine I was back in my room in Maine. That room was safe. Master was safe. I was safe with Master. Now I was vulnerable and out of place, open to a world of pain and confusion.

“Wake up, baby boy. Time to eat,” Aaron said softly, gently shaking me. I kept my eyes closes, hoping he would leave me alone if I ignored him. His fingers brushed through my hair as he tried to coax me awake. “I know you’re ignoring me, Reese. You need to eat something. Come on. Wake up before I pick you up and move you.” I opened my eyes, looking up at him blankly. I felt exhausted and incredibly numb. I sighed, scrubbing at my face to try and physically wipe away sleep. I rolled over, standing up and shuffling behind Aaron and taking a seat at his dining table where plates and pizza boxes sat. I took one of the glasses of water and took a swig, trying to get rid of the headache that still hadn’t gone away.

“Please, eat something. You can’t take these painkillers without food. They will make you feel worse,” Aaron said, pushing an open box my way.

I sighed, picking up a slice and tossing it on my plate before mumbling, “ma non merito questo (but I don’t deserve this).”

“English or French, please,” Aaron replied, taking a slice himself and taking a bite.

I looked at him for a moment and then looked away, slightly humiliated, “I don’t deserve this, Aaron. I didn’t earn it.”

He stopped, swallowing and taking a sip of his water. “Reese, look at me.” I looked at him, my eyes locking with his even though I wanted to look away from how humiliated I felt. “Food is not a privilege. Food is a necessity and you can and will have free access to it. Food will not be withheld from you, nor will you face any sort of punishment for eating whenever you feel like it. Please. Eat. You don’t have to earn meals in this household,” Aaron explained, continuing to eat himself once he had finished. I looked back down at my plate, trying to figure out if what he was saying was true to me. Did it matter? My opinion didn’t matter but at the same I wasn’t Aaron’s. I didn’t belong to him, I belonged to Master. Didn’t I? Why was everything so fucking confusing?

I just stared blankly at the plate in front of me, my mind trying to figure out if it was some sort of trick or not. I tapped my fingers together under the table, mimicking the tempo of Appalachian Spring as I figured out what was the truth and what were the lies. The itch was still there, of course. Begging and pleading with me. I felt out of place and wrong. “Reese, please. I don’t want to take you to a doctor to prescribe you pills just so you will eat, but I will if I have to. Eat,” Aaron declared, trying to urge me to eat. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with a doctor, mostly because the idea terrified me. I didn’t need pills to stimulate something that was already there, but I didn’t want to make anyone upset by objecting to their diagnoses. Voicing opinions I wasn’t allowed to have was disobedient.

I reluctantly did, although I ate as little as possible, eating enough to seemingly please him and then swallowing a painkiller after. He sighed, picking up the boxes and dealing with them in the kitchen. I just sat at the table, tapping my fingers as I imagined more classical pieces in my head and arranged music together as I envisioned different sounds. My eyes glassed over as I got lost inside my own head, my mind trying to protect itself as best as it could. I didn’t want to talk about any of this shit. I didn’t want to shine any light on all the shattered pieces of myself that were hidden in the shadows. I didn’t want to risk exposing myself. I needed more time and I needed to figure out how to keep Benjamin underneath the surface. I needed to figure out how to lock all this shit in box so I could move on. So, I could get on with things, although I doubted, I would be able to. It was consuming me like wildfire.

Aaron sat back down, looking at me intently, studying me as he tried to figure out how to help me pick up the pieces. He could try, but for once I doubted his abilities. I didn’t know if he could fix this or even get close. “What piece are you mimicking?” he asked knowingly, understanding the meaning behind the aimless taping as I tried to calm myself down.

“Appalachian Spring, sir,” I replied automatically, my voice monotone. I was blank and stark, hiding the explosive and volatile emotions underneath.

“What do you want to talk about first?”

“Whatever you think is best, sir.”

“Let’s talk about your avoidance of meals and lying to avoid them first, considering it seems to be the most pressing matter, then, hm?” Aaron queried, trying to force an opinion or a reaction. I remained distant, my entire body taut with stress as I kept my back straight from months of conditioning and kept my eyes downcast out of submission and respect. “I don’t appreciate the lying, although I understand it. I broke your trust and you’re already scared and confused. Now you’re doing whatever you need to in order to survive with minimal fear of consequence, which is telling me what I want to hear. Am I right?”

I didn’t look at him as I spoke, “no, sir.”

“Mm. Why do I think that’s another lie, Reese? Look at me and answer truthfully. I won’t get upset at you for being honest.”

I looked up, staring into his eyes with my own haunted gray irises. He was impassive, but it wasn’t the usual stoic impassivity he possessed. It was… softer. Sweeter, maybe? “Yes, you are correct, sir,” I answered, forcing myself to look at him even though I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to watch his disappointment in me. I didn’t want to watch the shift from compassion and empathy to the festering of resentment, contempt, and disgust.

“And you think you are being disobedient some how by eating because you feel like you don’t deserve food because of a previous act of disobedience, correct?”

I nodded slowly, “yes sir, that’s correct.”

“And the previous act of disobedience is protecting yourself in self-defense from abuse?” he questioned, like he was asking someone on the stand in a courtroom.

The words ‘self-defense’ stuck out to me, making me cock my head to side from confusion. It wasn’t self-defense and it wasn’t abuse. My opinion didn’t matter. But it did, now… didn’t it? “No sir,” I shook my head, knitting my brow together.

“No? Can you elaborate on what you disagree with?”

“I-It wasn’t self-defense, sir,” I responded quietly.

His face didn’t give anything away, his nod simply telling me he understood what I told him but not offering anything more. I could feel the disappointment and rage radiating off him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It was impossible to miss. “Did you give consent?” he asked, his jaw clenching.

“My consent doesn’t matter,” I declared, sinking back into a sense of defensiveness, “I’m property, sir. I don’t give consent. I don’t give my opinions. I do what my Master tells me to and live to serve his purpose for me.”

He didn’t say anything again. Instead he sat there for a moment, thick silence hanging in the air between us. It was like he was trying to accept that. It was common knowledge. There wasn’t anything difficult to accept about that subject. I belonged to Master and served him and that was all I was good for. “So you think that because you killed… your master, you don’t deserve to eat?”

I nodded, “yes sir.”

“So when will you deserve to eat again?”

“I—” I was puzzled in that moment, unsure of how to answer. I felt like I was walking directly into a trap. I grew silent, deciding it was better to say nothing at all rather than something incriminating.

“You’ll have to eat eventually, or you’ll starve to death. Your master isn’t here to make decisions, and no one will take his place. No one is going to assume that role. Eating is something you are allowed to do, you simply won’t allow yourself to,” Aaron stated bluntly, his point assertive as though it was right.

_No. No, that isn’t true. It can’t be true. I’m property. Property. He’s lying to you._

I said nothing. I didn’t react. I didn’t let my confusion or inner turmoil show. That would make me vulnerable. Vulnerability meant death. The possibility of getting hurt. I just sat there, looking at Aaron with cold, distant eyes. My look was guarded and defensive, never giving anything away. It mimicked his; a shield that fell in place so easily.

“No one owns you. You are a person, not an object. You live for yourself, not for another man. You understand that, yes?”

“No sir,” I answered, shaking my head. I could feel the growing strain inside me, the other person inside me chipping away at my defenses and trying to break me down to free itself. Slowly tearing me down and forcing me into a small prison cell in my mind for the sake of my protection and its recklessness. I wondered for a fleeting moment if Aaron could see the desolation in my eyes. If he was watching me die slowly as I was ripped apart at the seams. Could he see the metaphorical carnage? Could he feel me slipping through the world’s fingers? Could he see the dark shadows that clouded all hope and left me standing under the veil of darkness? Could he see me clawing for survival?

“You aren’t an object, Reese,” Aaron declared, his voice strained with unspoken pain.

_Yes, you are. You’re an object. You are property. You live to serve. You are nothing on your own. You are an object._

The acidic memory of learning that lesson rose to the surface, the feeling on choking and the freezing temperature of the water I had been forced under running up my skin in the form of goosebumps. Stress was close to making me snap, my brain lost as to how to go about processing the truth from the lies. What little control I had was slipping through my fingers like sand, falling away and leaving the opportunity for Benjamin to seize control of everything in its wake. I paled, my guard crumbling away as wave after wave of pain and memories crashed over me and sent me reeling.

Aaron spoke again, seizing that moment of vulnerable opportunity. “Reese, you are a person. He lied to you. He lied to you in order to trick you into being subservient to him,” Aaron explained gently. I shook my head, a pained expression formed on my face out of utter disbelief. He nodded slowly, pushing on, “he was lying to you. What he did to you was wrong. It was sexual abuse. You aren’t his to own.”

_He’s lying to you. Master was good to you. He wanted you. He took care of you. He’s lying._

I shook my head, letting my face fall into my hands as I ran my hands through my hair, my fingernails digging into my scalp as I tried to physically shake off the notion that I was more than something that was simply a toy to be used at Master’s discretion. “N-No, that isn’t right sir,” I bit out, my heart starting to jackhammer in my chest.

“Baby, don’t let him get the best of you. Calm down. Just breathe,” he coaxed. I felt so confused and lost. I didn’t want to think about any of this anymore. It was easier when all I had to think about was what Master wanted. Now I was doing what I thought he would want yet I wasn’t supposed to? What was wrong and what was right? What was I supposed to think? Who was I supposed to be? Why was everything so confusing? It was all too confusing. It was all too draining. I didn’t understand how to handle it or what to do. My hands slipped out of my hair, my eyes focused on my fingers as I started tapping them together, mimicking tempos of whatever song I could think of. My fingers then slid to the inside of my wrist, my nails digging into my skin. Warm blood began dripping out of my wrist, staining my nails and fingertips.

I took a deep breath, letting the small high take over as I started to find my stability.

* * *

_***Three days later*** _

“Reese, you need to get up,” Aaron said, shaking me gently. I let out a groan, turning over and pulling the sheets tighter over my body. Aaron chuckled, “I know. I’m tired too, but you need to get out of bed. We have to go to your psychiatrist in two hours.”

I sighed, the thought of talking about all this shit becoming more and more daunting. “Tell the psychiatrist I died or something. I’m tired,” I muttered dismissively, trying to go back to sleep.

“I am not going to do that, so, you are just going to have to get out of bed,” Aaron said, digging his fingers into the sensitive areas on my side.

“Stop,” I ordered, trying to squirm away.

“Not until you get out of bed,” Aaron said, trying to hide his amusement.

I huffed, opening my eyes and pushing up in the bed, my back resting against the cool wood of the headboard. I glared at Aaron with sleepy eyes. “Happy now?” I asked snappily, scrubbing at my face.

“Very,” Aaron commented cheerily, smiling at me brightly. I rolled my eyes, giving him a small smile. Mornings were becoming somewhat pleasant as my mind was still entrapped in the feeling of tiredness rather than panicking and trying to rip itself apart every second of the day. “You need to shower. You can shave if you want but you don’t have to, obviously,” Aaron said, moving around the room as he pulled clothes out of the closet for himself. I yawned, nodding my understanding. I was going to shave to save him the embarrassment of my terrible appearance. I could at least try to look presentable.

I threw the sheets of my body, swinging my legs out of the bed and standing, stretching and looking out the window. I was only in my boxers. I learned after two days of waking up with nightmares consistently there was no point in wearing shirts just to take them off after they were soaked in sweat. It was brighter day out, the sun beating down on the pedestrians below. I walked over to the other side of the bed, sitting on the edge of it and watching Aaron pull clothes out for himself. He was opting for casual clothes, thank god. He glanced back at me, pulling an olive-green polo off the hanger for himself, “what do you want to wear?”

And with that, all of the fragile inner peace was effectively broken. I sighed, my mouth open for an answer to fall out, yet nothing came. I peered up at him, silently asking for him to decide rather than me. Decisions were above me. My opinion would always be invalid. That was the point of being an object; the point of being a slave. He sighed, pulling out a random solid colored tan t-shirt and tossing it to me as well as a pair of black jeans. I caught them, setting them next to me and standing, walking over to the dresser but pausing before glancing back and silently asking if that was ok. He nodded and I went on, pulling of some fresh boxer briefs and then sauntering into the bathroom to take a shower and shave.

I took a fast shower, using Aaron’s products again and savoring the smell of pine and the feeling of security I temporarily gained from it. I stepped out of the shower, drying off and wrapping the towel around my waist before taking out all the items I needed to shave. I lathered my face in shaving gel and then started shaving, being careful not to cut myself on accident no matter how much I wanted to on purpose. I wasn’t ready for Aaron to open the door to go about taking his shower and I jumped a bit, looking at him wide-eyed for a moment before scowling. “Aaron! Razor to face! Knock before entering! Please!” I scolded, going about shaving while he laughed behind me.

We left after an hour of simply wasting time in the apartment, both of us slightly frustrated from having a small battle about painkillers and food… again. I slipped my headphones over my ears, flicking through my options of songs and settling on the song ‘Wake Up’ by Black Veil Brides. I closed my eyes, letting my head fall against the head rest and focusing on the words of the song rather than the instability of what was yet to come.

_**“Create a holy war,** _   
_**And sell it back to you.** _   
_**We’ll shout it from the tallest building!** _   
_**We, won’t let them turn away** _   
_**We’ll show them what they made** _   
_**We’ll be here when their heart stops beating** _   
_**We the nation of today** _   
_**Our hearts that never fade** _   
_**We’ll be here when the heart stops beating.** _   
_**Oh o-oh, Wake up!** _   
_**Oh o-oh, Wake up!”** _

I listened to the song, my fingers tapping against my thighs as I thought about the drumming and then what cords were being played during a satisfying guitar solo. It was a good song but the next came as it faded, the song ‘Drag Me to the Grave’ taking its place. Fitting. I opened my eyes, watching cars go by as we drove. Eventually we pulled into the parking lot of a brick building, all types of offices held inside. On the second floor was my psychiatrist and his office as well as a few more counselors. I took a deep breath, opening the car door after second as I tried to make myself appear physically calm. I kept the headphones over my ears, my hands in my pockets to stop me from fidgeting or tapping. I needed to sell stability. I needed to buy myself just a little more time. Just a few more weeks.

A sudden feeling of guilt panged in my chest, mixing with rising anxiety as the thoughts clouded into sudden confusion, contorting desperation as I clawed to push myself to survive. I felt bad for the possibilities of what I was going to do. I didn’t want to break any of my team members, nor did I want to break Aaron. Or Jack. _Jack._ I turned to Aaron for a moment, my face hard as I thought about his child and then turned away, my face returning to impassivity. I didn’t ask about him, deciding not to in this current moment but cataloging it in my mind to talk about it later. I had missed Jack. He was a good kid, sweet and kind and insatiably curious about the world going on around him. Out of all the pained areas, Jack had been a gentler thought during my time in that room. I thought about what he might be doing and how he was getting along with all of this. I wondered if he missed me or if he didn’t give me a second thought like almost everyone else in my life.

We stepped out of the elevator onto the second floor, the waiting area empty. There were chairs lining the lobby and a couch on one side of the wall, psychiatric and self-help magazines on the large coffee table. There was a small table on one of the walls facing the couch, cards and other references to different psychologists and counselors on the table for anyone interested. You could tell they had been sitting for a long time, the print on some cards partially faded from sitting under the lights for so long. There wasn’t any dust from daily cleaning, but the cards were old. I sat down in one of the chairs, Aaron taking the seat next to me. His fingers interlaced with mine, his fingers stroking possessively over the top of my hand, his hand squeezing mine to reassure me on occasion.

A man finally exited the office, saying his goodbyes to another older man. Doctor Mack Peterson. He was in his mid-thirties and attentive, his eyes a pale jade and his skin a light tan. He was the epitome of wise beyond ones years, his face set in a calm impassivity that was inviting and friendly. I turned my head for a fraction a second, watching the other man enter the waiting elevator and then returning my attention to Peterson. “Reese,” he greeted politely, extending his hand to shake, “it has been a while.”

I shot Aaron a skeptical look and he nodded, impassive as he studied Peterson. I gave him a curt nod, deciding against the handshake but not saying anything. Aaron sighed, the gesture split second and easy to miss although I caught it. A week and he was already over me. Great. He held out his hand, shaking Peterson’s as the men studied each other, sizing each other up. “Aaron Hotchner,” he said, shaking Peterson’s hand. I suddenly grew wary, my grip growing tighter around Aaron’s hand as I grew more and more alert to possible danger and violence. In the last five months, possessiveness where I was concerned could grow violent and deadly. He squeezed back, silently telling me nothing was going to happen although I didn’t believe it.

Peterson smiled, “Mack Peterson. I don’t believe we’ve met. You are Reese’s…?”

“Significant other,” Aaron finished, releasing his hand and dropping it to his side. I let go of Aaron’s hand, telling him this will be a private meeting. I didn’t plan on speaking much, but I didn’t know what information would be thrown out there. I knew it wouldn’t impact my reinstatement because of confidentiality and ethical codes, but it could affect my mental state and then my interactions with other people. “I’ll be right out here,” Aaron murmured to me, letting me walk in front of him to follow Peterson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	22. Never Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Never again. Never again. They are never going to hurt Reese again. He’s too good for this world. He needs me to protect him from manipulative bastards like that. Never again. Never again. Never again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicidal thoughts, D.I.D., Stockholm syndrome, PTSD, mentions of abuse, etc.
> 
> Enjoy. I said i was going on hiatus but I lied lmfao.

“When we lose the right to be different, we lose the privilege to be free.”  
-Charles Evans Hughes

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

I followed Peterson, arching a brow at him and staring at him coldly when he motioned me into the office before him. He gave me a small, sympathetic smile and walked in front of me, letting me follow behind him. I had already made my wariness known; my distrust of others widely apparent. I stood firmly in the frame of the door, waiting for him to tell me where he would prefer me to sit. He sat in a gray armchair across from a sofa, his left shin resting on his right knee. He glanced back at me, the calm impassivity returning in his gaze. “Sit. Please,” Peterson instructed, motioning to the sofa in front of him. I sat; my fingers interlaced in my lap to stop myself from tapping them together. I just stared at him; my eyes hard. Anger and torment blazed just below the surface, daring him to push me around. Daring him to make me snap.

“So, it has been awhile, although I was informed of your condition. Is there any place in particular you would like to start?” Peterson asked, taking a pen out of his inside jacket pocket and clicking it, waiting to write something down on his notepad. I just stared at him, not offering anything or letting my face give anything away. I was steely and cold, unexpected rage festering under the surface while instability and guilt scurried under my skin like mice. He smiled again, already jotting something down on his notepad. I didn’t scowl, confused as to what he could already be noting about me given I hadn’t said or showed anything. I was keeping my distance, waiting for ques that it was safe to open up although I would never feel like that. Giving my opinion was disobedient.

He cleared his throat, his tone soft when he spoke, “Reese, we aren’t going to get anywhere if you can’t talk to me. The entire point of coming here is to work through problems and the only way we can do that is if you open up. It doesn’t have to be huge or all at once, but you have to start somewhere.”

“Do I?” I snapped bitterly, my lips twisting into a repugnant snarl.

“Yes. If you aren’t willing to do that, there isn’t any point in being here,” Peterson explained, displaying calmness as though it was second nature. That fueled my unfettered rage, fire twisting and coiling inside me. I despised how easy it could come to him. I reviled how simple it was for others to move on or pick up the pieces when I had to deal with constant insecurity and instability.

_Maybe if you wouldn’t have killed Master, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Stupid fucking whore. You just couldn’t think, could you? You had to be a selfish little bitch. He was the only one who saw you for what you were and still wanted you. Be grateful he used you for so long, slut._

“Well, there isn’t much of a point in any of this, is there? Not like there ever fucking was, hm, Peterson?” I snarled, my tone razor sharp and aggressive. My control was slipping.

“Would you care to elaborate?” he asked, remaining impassive as I grew more enraged. The strain was starting to snap as I started to slip, my personality sinking into the background as another took its place.

* * *

**Benjamin’s POV**

“Would you care to elaborate?” Peterson asked, his face marred with calm impassivity.

I scowled, my lips curling into a look of arrogant disgust. “Would you care to read between the lines, or are you that fucking stupid?” I sneered, my anger exuding out of every pore. It was nice to finally get to let it out after how long Reese had forced himself to contain me and his rage. Too bad he couldn’t control me forever.

“Is there a reason for the sudden display of anger or has it just been bottled up too long?” he asked, acting as though I hadn’t just insulted him. That was something I hated. I wanted to provoke emotions. It gave me an emotional release that I wanted. It got me as close to killing that bastard as I could without the possibility of imprisonment.

“Oh, fuck you,” I remarked, avoiding the question as I tried to push him towards anger and if I could, fear. I understood the enjoyment of watching people who were in fear. I liked the momentary confusion before sparks of realization and panic set in.

“Are you typically this aggressive? It wasn’t like you a few months ago, so I’m curious if it is something that you have developed over the last five months that is just starting to be processed,” he said, ignoring the derogatory comment and writing more things down on his notepad.

I raised a brow, my face hard lines marred with immense frustration. “What the fuck do you think? What’s the god damn point of asking questions you already know the fucking answer to. Are you genuinely stupid or are you ignoring the blatantly obvious? You tell me, Peterson,” I snapped bitterly. He kept writing and then paused, looking up with an arched brow of his own. He studied me, his features twisting to display his curiosity and slight confusion. Closer, but not close to there yet. I could get to fear without even touching him, I just had to work harder for it. Finally, he looked back down, continuing to take notes of things he deemed important, profiling in essence.

He stopped writing, pointing with his pen to cuts on my right arm and shooting me a quizzical look. “When did you do those to yourself?” he asked, breezing through the conversation and ignoring the anger growing inside me as every word fell from his mouth.

I put on fake smile, my face tight with stress and uncontrollable rage. “What makes you say _I_ did them?” I asked snappily.

“You’ve struggled with self-harm your entire teenage and adult life. Based on the placement and angle, it makes the most sense that you would have given them to yourself,” he explained almost nonchalantly, through more kerosene on the emotional fire. It was starting to spread inside me, coursing through my veins as I grew more and more enraged, the emotions starting to boil over inside me and seep out. “When did you do them?” he repeated, the same calm tone emanating from him like he was a fountain of infinite wisdom and calm.

“It isn’t any of your business.”

“Isn’t it?” he countered, “it’s my job to help you navigate through your emotions and problems. Self-harm is an issue for you, and it will get worse because of everything you have gone through and the sea of emotions running through you from the past five months. The quicker you understand I am not your enemy, the quicker you can start working through my problems.”

That was my undoing, enraged at the entire statement I stood, ignoring the pain shooting through my side. “What are you? My fucking friend? The man that did this to him manipulated him the same way. I’m not going to let you hurt him. Ever,” I snarled, protectiveness coiling around my tone in a coldness, telling him to back the fuck off.

“Him? Why did you refer to yourself as ‘him’?” he queried.

“Go to hell, you fucking bitch,” I spat, looking at the clock. The session was over in ten minutes anyways. I strode to the door, walking out and breezing past a very concerned looking Aaron Hotchner as I walked down the hallway and hit the button for the elevator. I stepped in, my foot tapping against the floor of the car as I rode down, trying to reign in my temper but struggling profusely. I stepped out when the cars door opened, not paying any mind to the people waiting for the now vacated car as I stormed through the building and walked out. I needed a cigarette or a drink. Or a knife. I ran my knuckles along my jaw, my rage vibrating off me as I circled around to the side of the building, physically trying to leave my anger behind me with every step.

_Never again. Never again. They are never going to hurt Reese again. He’s too good for this world. He needs me to protect him from manipulative bastards like that. Never again. Never again. Never again._

I leaned against the side of the building, sliding down the wall with a wince as I sat on the asphalt. I wrapped my arms around my knees, trying to control my anger. If I didn’t get control of the anger I would no doubt put my fist through a wall (calm down Kyle, Jesus).

_Never again. Never again. Never again._

**_Does it even matter? Its not like my opinion matters to anyone. Just let it go, Benjamin. There’s no point in fighting for me._ **

_No. Never again. No one is ever going to hurt you if you just let me protect you. I will always protect you._

_**Then stop. There’s no point in trying when everyone seems to get to me. Just let it go.** _

_Never._

“Reese?”

_Hotchner._

“What?” I asked snappily, looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

“What’s wrong? Why are you out here?” he asked, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit next to me.

“It doesn’t fucking concern you,” I said dismissively, waving him off.

“It sort of does. Reese, you walked out of the appointment before it was over and belittled Peterson the entire time. I’m worried about you. I care about you,” he said firmly, although his voice was soft within his firmness. I bit my bottom lip to contain my rage, the emotions still raging hard. “Do you want to go home?” he asked quietly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I wanted to slap them away but didn’t, deciding he was fine. I trusted him enough. I was still cautious, but he wasn’t that bad.

“Yes, please,” I replied, my voice maintaining its hard edge but the anger disappearing from it as I tried to quash it. He stood, holding out a hand to help me up. I took it, standing up with minimal pain but my abdomen was still sore. He interlaced his fingers with mine, both of us walking in uncomfortable silence back to the car. I slipped in the passenger side, looking out the window and watching all the people. The car ride was deafeningly silent, both of us immensely tense and stressed out. The ride in the elevator was the same and by the time we got into the apartment I was thoroughly annoyed. “I’m going to sleep, Hotchner. Wake me up and I swear to god, I will snap your god damn neck like a twig and the team won’t find your body,” I snarled, walking back to the bedroom and slamming the door.

I tore off my clothes, dropping them on the floor, leaving myself in only my boxers. I slid into the bed, closing my eyes and scrubbing at my face. Both of us needed sleep. Reese and I both. He would ask rather than demand, which was a part of his downfall. He lost the ability to be aggressive. But not me. I knew what he needed and what needed to be done. I wouldn’t let a thing touch him.

Never. Again.

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

I woke up in a daze, confusion as to where the hell I was incredibly apparent. I looked around, understanding my surroundings before everything came rushing back. I had switched personalities in the psychiatric office. If I wasn’t fucked before, I was definitely fucked now. A tremor ran through my body, sudden alienation taking me by surprise but continuing to clutch me in its jaws. I slipped out of the bed, throwing my discarded shirt on and walking over to the farthest corner of the room, somewhere the light streaming in through the windows couldn’t touch me. I sunk down against the wall; my body pressed into the corner as I got lost in dissociative panic.

I pulled my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around the tops of my knees and dropping my head against my forearms as I started to shake, on the brink of tears. All of this was wrong. I was wrong. Everything was wrong and out of place and extremely confusing. I was already fucking everything up, making people sick of me.

_End it. Just end it. No one wants you. Everyone is sick of you. End it. End it. End it._

Tears began falling from my eyes, wetting my forearms and eyelashes as they came uncontrollably. There was no other noise besides labored breathing and small sniffles every once and a while. Goosebumps raced up my arms, a shiver running down my spine as I wept quietly. Eventually the teared stopped flowing, a dull throbbing in my skull and abdomen replacing the tears. I slid down further, laying down on the carpeted floor, my face facing the wall, my body curled into the tightest ball I could manage.

_Pathetic. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. You’re so weak. Weak fucking slut._

The doorknob turned, the sound of the metal ringing throughout the silent room. Footsteps. Footsteps that were getting closer and closer to me. I went still, keeping my body rigid and my eyes squeezed shut as fear hung heavy in my gut. “Reese… what are you doing on the floor?” Aaron asked softly, his voice laced with caution. Oh god. He was probably on his toes from Benjamin saying or doing something extremely reckless. I didn’t answer, I just stayed where I was. “I’m going to touch you,” he announced, the feeling of his hand on my skin encompassing me a few moments later. His fingers stroked up and down my arm, his presence in the room making me fearful yet strangely at ease.

“Why are you laying on the floor, baby? Please tell me you haven’t been there this entire time,” he said calmly, his voice betraying him and revealing slight stress.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” I whispered, terror evident in my voice. Every muscle in my body was tight with stress, anxiety about what was going to happen in the next few minutes terrifying me.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked, confused.

“About everything,” I whispered, my voice almost inaudible.

Without missing a beat, he connected the dots, expressing his thoughts out loud, “you think you were disobedient again.” I didn’t answer, simply staying curled up in my position on the floor, my body as close to the wall as I could manage. “No, you weren’t. You got upset. That’s ok. You’re allowed to have emotions, whether they are positive or negative. No one is upset at you, baby boy. Let’s get off the floor and then you can read or something on the couch. The way you are laying can’t be comfortable.” He was right about that. Laying on the floor with a sore abdomen and a headache wasn’t the greatest, but it felt the most familiar. I didn’t deserve comfortable spaces or furniture. Hell, I didn’t even deserve the floor. Especially after today’s display. What would Master have said?

My hesitation made me stay where I was, my mind trying to figure out what to do. “It wasn’t a request. Get off the floor,” Aaron ordered, his voice firm and commanding like it was when he was working. He wasn’t asking anymore. He was demanding. My mind sunk into submissiveness and obedience with ease, my body moving automatically as I stood up, my head bowed in submission as he stood in front of me. “Go sit on the bed, sweetheart.” Again, I did as I was told without any hesitations, perching on the edge of the bed while he went and gathered a pair of sweatpants from the dresser and moved to the closet. “A hoodie of yours or something of mine?” he asked, this time telling me he wanted my input.

“E-Either is fine, sir,” I replied, my voice soft. It was a submissive tone. A tone I had grown accustomed to using often. He just nodded, pulling out a black quarter zip he wore in the fall and winter when it got cold. He walked over, thrusting the clothes into my hands and silently ordering me to get dressed. I did that, throwing on the sweatpants and pulling the quarter zip over my head. It was bigger on my shoulders, as he was broader than I was, but other than that it was fine. I wasn’t drowning in material like other people in their significant other’s clothes. I followed him out of the bedroom dutifully, standing awkwardly on the outskirt of the room when he went and sat down on the couch, something random playing on the T.V. screen.

He patted the spot next to him, “come sit with me, baby boy. That is the entire point of owning a couch.” I narrowed my eyes at the sarcastic comment, but moved over to the couch, sitting next to him and tucking into his side. Usually the position was more awkward, hard lines and hard lines making it difficult for me to slot against him, but with all the weight I had lost and the lack of muscle definition, it wasn’t too bad. An arm came around my shoulder, pulling me into his side and holding me there. I rested my head on his shoulder, my eyes on the screen but unfocused as I sunk into yet another state of dissociation. I felt his lips graze by my ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe. I immediately found myself stumbling back into reality, my eyes wide and unable to meet his. “There you are. You have a habit of zoning out, don’t you, baby boy?” he asked, his voice unintentionally sultry, lulling me into places I really couldn’t go.

“Yes, sir,” I answered quietly, my throat working on a swallow.

“Stop it with the ‘sir’. I’m not mad at you for using it, but it isn’t something you should have to use around me in our home. Do you understand me?” he asked, his fingers slipping down to my side and curling around me possessively.

“Yes si—sorry. Y-Yes, I understand,” I replied, my projection still one of tepidness rather than confidence.

“Good boy,” he crooned, “very good boy. I missed having you around. I missed getting to praise you and getting to hold you. My beautiful boy.” The word ‘my’ stuck out and smacked me across the face, leaving me partially dumbfounded. I thought he would have already kicked me out the door by now. He was smiling against my skin, one of those small smiles that means he knows how much he’s got me in this moment. In this moment I am his, wrapped around his finger and willing to bend and bow to his every whim. I swallowed hard, my body overly aware of his fingers slipping underneath my shirt to caress bare skin [no, Aaron is not making moves on Reese. Don’t worry, I’m not that mean], his fingers rubbing small, tantalizing circles against my hip. It was possessive, dominant. Like he was trying to slowly start toying with the idea that I was his now, like we had been before.

“Do you want to watch something or read? You need to do something to keep your mind preoccupied,” he said.

“T.V. I can’t focus on reading right now,” I murmured quietly, closing my eyes. I felt exhausted already, but the feeling had never really gone away. Everything was such a head spin that I couldn’t help but feel exhausted.

“Don’t go to sleep. You need to be awake some. You’ve slept almost the entire time you’ve been here.”

I shrugged, “I’m just really tired. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Aaron said, laughing it off as he started flicking through the channels, “what do you want to watch?”

“Don’t care.”

“You have to have some sort of preference. Or at least, I would hope you have some kind of preference.”

I shook my head, my voice quiet when I spoke, “not really. Having my own preferences is against the rules.”

There was a beat of silence, the air shifting into something more sorrowful and uncomfortable. He looked at me, his deep brown eyes searching mine for anything. Searching for some spark of the person I once was. Searching for something that wasn’t there anymore. “No, it’s not. Having preferences is a good thing. It means you are your own person,” he explained softly, pain encompassing his tone of voice. I didn’t say anything, deciding it would upset him more if I said something. I looked away, shame twisting in my core and making me feel sick.

“Ok,” I said, accepting what he said but silently refuting it. If I didn’t, I would get hurt.

_Never again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	23. Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“Reese… are you alright?” he asked, his eyes alert and cautious as he shook of his momentary fear. 
> 
> This time I didn’t hesitate to answer. “I don’t know,” came my reply, my words weak and laced with self-hatred and bitter, bitter shame."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: self-harm, depression, flashbacks, etc.
> 
> why do i hate literally every chapter i write recently? idk. oh well. here you go. and sorry it's so short, but I didn't really want to finish the chapter out in full.

“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life.”  
-Richard Bach

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

Aaron was flicking through channels on the T.V., trying to find something interesting to watch. I didn’t care in the first place, but it wasn’t like my opinion was valuable. Being told I had an opinion was always a trick. It was never really true; it was just a way to bait me into a punishment. Wasn’t it? I didn’t know who or what to trust anymore. Trusting people meant vulnerability. It meant getting hurt in the long run and I wasn’t about to open myself up to that, was I?

“What are you thinking about?” Aaron asked, startling me. I blinked at him, my mind scrambling for an answer. All of them seemed wrong. All of them were the wrong answer. What answer did he consider the correct answer? I was starting to panic a bit, knowing I was taking too long to answer a seemingly easy question. But it wasn’t easy. It was a trick. Right? “Reese, you don’t have to answer. I just like talking to you. I want you to learn to trust me again,” he admitted, his voice laced with subtle guilt. I felt like I was going to completely break apart in that moment, numbness and pain stabbing me in the gut and twisting inside me.

“Why do you still want me?” I asked, my eyes glazing over as I sunk into nothingness.

“Because I still love you,” he answered, as though it was simple.

“But why?” I asked, my voice cracking with the unspoken force of my words, “I don’t understand. I always fuck everything up. Always. I’m not a loveable person. I’m just a fucking object. That’s it.”

“Did you think I was going to stop loving you over this?” he asked incredulously. I nodded, tears threatening to well up in my eyes as pain spread throughout my entire body. The emotional ferocity was pushing me into deeper physical pain, but I could get over that. For five months I had been taught to either absorb it with permission or to ignore it. I blinked the tears back, quashing the emotions and tamping them down deeper inside myself. “I could never stop loving you because of this. This wasn’t your fault. This… pain, isn’t going to last forever. I’m not going to leave you,” he vowed, confidence exuding from every word.

I looked at him, pain-filled eyes piercing his as I tried to search the depths of his eyes. “Aaron,” I whispered, “you don’t know that. You can’t say that if it isn’t true.”

“But I’m not going anywhere,” he insisted, passion sparking under his chocolate eyes. I stayed silent, looking down at my fingers that were flexing in my lap restlessly. “Hey,” he murmured, his hands cupping my face, “I love you. I’m not going anywhere. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” I just slowly nodded, not believing him but telling him I did. It was a blatant lie, but I sold it well. Guilt bubbled back up inside me. Everything was just one guilt filled torment after another. Everything was just so, so fucking frustrating.

_Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. So fucking pathetic. So stupid. So worthless. The only thing you’re good for is being fucking used._

Being used.

I swallowed, sudden need surging inside me like a tidal wave. I pushed forward, ignoring my screaming abdomen, and tackling Aaron down to the couch, suspending myself over him. My hands braced by either side of his head, my legs straddling his hips. My lips slanted over his before he could even think about complaining or telling me I shouldn’t be doing this. Teeth clashed against teeth and tongues greedily explored the other’s mouth. I let out a small moan into his mouth, sexual tension beginning to crackle to life in the air between us. Aaron pushed me back, staring up at me with lust-blown pupils. “Baby, we cannot do this right now,” he breathed. I whined, trying to push myself back down. His hands came up, holding my chest and keeping me at a distance. “No,” he reiterated more forcefully.

“Why?” I asked, giving him puppy dog eyes. A wicked thought came to mind, sudden realization of our position spurring me on. I rocked my hips, grinding against him and smiling wickedly, asking again, “why?” He was trying his absolute hardest to become stern, but he was failing miserably. I smirked harder, cocking my head to the side, and licking my bottom lip in invitation.

“Reese, that is not fair,” he admonished.

I laughed softly, my left hand moving and my fingers slipping into his hair. “I never said I fight fair, Aaron,” I teased, thinking back to times he had teased me with the exact same line, “I haven’t cum since the last time we had sex, so I’m willing to throw away fair if it gets me what I want.”

A grin spread across his face, one of his hands coming up to cup my cheek, his thumb sliding across my bottom lip. I wrapped my lips around it, beckoning him to continue. He took in a sharp breath, trying to figure out what he should do and what he wanted to do. I nipped the pad of his thumb, smirking as he withdrew it. “My sweet boy just wants daddy to make him cum, is that right?” he asked, his hands sliding to my sides and slipping under my clothes, caressing my bare skin.

I nodded frantically, “yes, please.”

“I am not going all the way and I’m not getting anything. This is all for you, understand?” he asked, deadly serious.

“Yes, please dear god, just get on with it,” I demanded, need seeping into my voice as I continued rocking into him.

“What do you say, baby boy?” he asked, grinning as he slowly rocked back into me.

“Daddy, please,” I begged breathlessly. Having sex was easier than using my braincells for something pro-active right now, and I was more than willing to try and have it if it meant not having to talk about my problems. I knew it was a trauma response and that it could have terrible consequences, but I was so horny and desperate, I didn’t really care.

“Such a good boy,” he praised, “shirt on or off?”

“Mine or yours?” I joked back, making him laugh. The sound was intoxicating, incredibly smooth and sweet, like honey. I couldn’t help but beam at him, pulling back so he could lean up and take his own shirt off. I took my own off, shaking off a feeling of insecurity.

_This is wrong. Wrong. What would Master say?_

**_Just shut up and fuck already._ **

I traced his collar bone, shifting back forward when he laid back against the couch. We continued rocking into each other, grinding shamelessly. I leaned down, plunging my tongue back in his mouth before he took over the kiss, his teeth sinking into my lower lip. My nails dug into his shoulders, his fingers teasing and tracing my ribs and sliding around to my lower back but not moving any further down.

_Stupid, pathetic, disloyal whore._

**_Silence._ **

I pulled back, dropping my head by his ear, and breathing hard, small moans and sharp breaths leaving my lungs before I could stop them. “God, I missed you,” I murmured, remembered ecstasy beginning to take on the form of heat that was pooling in my groin and stomach.

“I missed you too, baby boy. I missed you so fucking much,” he said, rocking up into me. We were meeting each other, the friction making me achingly hard and needy.

“Need you so bad,” I admitted lowly, kissing up and down the side of his neck and biting softly, marking him. I didn’t usually do that when I had been more secure in our relationship, knowing it would be a dead give-away to our coworkers. Now, it didn’t matter. It was good to have, though, knowing that soon this would all be over. It was another fond memory to have.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he asked in a seductive purr.

“I want you to touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“I want you to make me cum, please. Need it so fucking bad,” I said, pleading with him.

He chuckled darkly, the sound a rougher encapsulation of sinful desires. “Aw, my little boy needs me that badly, hm? Since you’ve been so good, then I think I will make you cum. I’m going to make you cum harder than you ever have in your entire damn life,” he said insidiously.

“ _Please,_ ” I moaned softly, his fingertips gliding over my skin and lighting a fire in its wake.

“My beautiful boy,” he crooned, his fingers slipping under my waistband and teasing the skin without moving any further. I tried pushing up into his hand, but he withdrew, quirking a brow. “And what do you think you’re doing, little boy?” Aaron asked in a sing-song tone.

“Aaron,” I whined. He continued his movements, his hand cupping my erection through my boxers and teasing me. “Aaron, please. Stop teasing,” I admonished weakly.

“What’s my name, baby boy?”

“Daddy, _f-fuck_ , daddy please. Stop teasing me, please,” I begged softly, pleading with him with my eyes. He slid his hand back up and then finally touched me, his hand wrapping around my dick and stroking slowly, lazily. My eyes rolled into the back of my skull from immense pleasure, my hips rolling into his hand automatically.

**_This is what happens when it’s consensual. See? See!? Aaron is so much better than that fool. He isn’t trying to fucking use you and leave you hanging alone._ **

_Shut up. You’re wrong. This isn’t the same. You can’t compare the two._

“Oh my god,” I moaned, the sound guttural and extremely pornographic.

“Get your ass down here,” he growled, his other hand slipping into my hair and pushing my head down, his tongue sliding into my mouth as he stroked my dick. He pulled me back using the grip he had on my hair, his eyes projecting him lust even though he was clearly restraining himself from asking if he could fuck me into the middle of next week on this god damn couch. The only thing that wasn’t restrained was his dominant demeanor. That was something he never held back on, though, and I was fine with that. He released my hair, watching me as I fucked into his hand and damn near lost my mind. “There you go, fuck my hand just like that, baby boy. Cum whenever you feel like it,” he praised, watching with a satisfied smirk on his face as I squeezed my eyes shut from how good it felt.

“’M n-not gonna l-last long,” I breathed, rolling my hips to meet his strokes.

“That’s alright. Cum whenever you want.” Sudden confusion and the thought of ‘your opinions don’t matter’ washed over me before quickly being shoved aside by Aaron’s next choice of words. “Daddy wants you to cum for him.” That was almost enough to fling me over the edge, but not quite. I rolled into him again, his hand tightening around my cock and making me moan again. “You’re such a good boy. You’re doing such a good job. You can be a good boy and cum for daddy, can’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” I panted. Suddenly he withdrew his hand, making me scowl. “What the hell was that for?” I asked, narrowing my eyes down at him.

He quirked a brow, a stern look coming over his features. “Don’t be a brat,” he warned, spitting into his hand, and then slipping it back to where it was, stroking but slower this time. His other hand gripped my hip, stopping me from moving. I closed my eyes, understanding that now he was simply making me absorb what little he was giving me without giving me anymore.

_Follow the rules. Be grateful for what you’re given._

My fingers dug into him harder, a shudder working its way through my body as his thumb slid over my slit and collect my precum and then squeezed the tip of my cock. “F-Fuck, please,” I begged, my eyes half-lidded and lustful.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby boy. No need to beg for permission. Just let go,” Aaron crooned, a fire blazing in his eyes.

“More, p-please,” I begged, elaborating on what I wanted. More like needed.

He chuckled wickedly, smirking up at me, “why should I give you more?”

I scowled at him, “because I asked nicely, you prick.”

He stopped then, removing his hand, and simply placing it on my waist, holding me tighter so I couldn’t move or grind against him. I whined petulantly, prompting him to arch a brow. “What did you just call me?” he growled. My eyes went wide, and my pulse started racing, but not in a fun way.

“I’m sorry—” I tried, but he cut me off.

“I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked what you called me. So, I’ll ask again. What did you call me?” he repeated, stern and stoic.

I swallowed, looking away from him, mumbling, “a prick.”

“And do you think that’s polite after daddy was giving you what you wanted?” he queried. I shook my head, my face flushing out of immense embarrassment. “Be a good boy and watch your mouth and your manners, you understand me?” I nodded. “Words, baby boy,” he said softly, his features softening.

“Yes sir,” I replied, confusion and self-hatred slicing through my thoughts like a knife.

“Good boy. Now, what do you want?”

And like that I didn’t know, my mind attacking itself for my own stupidity. For what I had allowed myself to indulge in. A tremor ran through me at remembered punishments for the same stupidity I had displayed months ago. All the sexual confidence immediately crumbled away, my need dying with it, replaced by fear and apprehension.

_Stupid. Fucking. Slut. Not only did you forget your place, you were disloyal to your Master. Fucking pathetic. Stupid and worthless. Can’t even control yourself._

I tried pushing myself back off of him, trying to distance myself from everything. Trying to escape the never-ending confusion. Aaron didn’t let go, rather pulling me in and holding me to his chest. I hid my face in the crook of his neck, my nails digging into his flesh once again, but from fear and an overwhelming need for security rather than deep ceded ecstasy. He secured an arm around my back, his other stroking my hair. “It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s over. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. It’s alright. Shh, shh,” he coaxed, trying to keep me from a full-blown panic attack.

_**“You shouldn’t have done that, little one. Master told you not to and yet you did it anyway. But you’ll learn. My pet will know better than to disregard my commands. Get over here and face the wall.”** _

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please just stop,” I rambled, pleaded as my mind sunk somewhere else. In my mind I was begging Master for forgiveness, rather than the man I was on top of. I started thrashing, trying to push myself off of Aaron and sink to my knees in submission. Trying to repeat normal behavior and apologize.

“It’s ok, baby boy. You’re safe. You’re safe. It was my fault. It’s alright. He’s not here. He can’t get to you and hurt you, anymore. I’m gonna protect you. You’re ok, baby.”

_No. No. He’s lying. Isn’t he? But why would he lie? No, no. He’s tricking you. He’s lying to you. Everyone else lies to you, so he must be. No one wants you. No one cares about you. You’re an object. A slave. That’s it. No one gives a fuck about you._

The itch came back full force, my nails flying to my pre-existing cuts and tearing at them, the need for endorphins making me more willing to be reckless. “No, Reese. Stop. Stop. You’re hurting yourself,” Aaron said, trying to get me to stop clawing at myself, to no avail. Without any warning, he stood, making me stop and cling onto him so I wouldn’t fall. He carried me into the bedroom, laying me on the bed and immediately restraining my wrists at either side of my head, a pained expression marring his face. Warm blood was starting to seep out of two of the now open cuts, slowly trickling down my forearm. “I don’t want to restrain you, but if you keep trying to hurt yourself, I will. Now, can I let you go or are you going to hurt yourself?” he probed gently.

I didn’t respond, I just stared up at him with bleak eyes. He sighed, trying to decipher my next move. He slowly let go, watching as I stayed completely still, not moving from the position I was in. Something in his eyes died, withering away. His small amount of fear wasn’t lost on me. I had learned how to see the shadows in other people’s eyes and the pain people often kept imprisoned inside them. It was easy when you understood them. “Reese… are you alright?” he asked, his eyes alert and cautious as he shook of his momentary fear.

This time I didn’t hesitate to answer. “I don’t know,” came my reply, my words weak and laced with self-hatred and bitter, bitter shame.

And with that, the last of what I had left, came shattering to the ground, my soul finally breaking apart and leaving me completely, totally lost and alone, leaving me stranded in the dark where all my demons liked to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading. comments are appreciated. hope you enjoyed


	24. Escapism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For a few moments I could escape; I could escape the constant pain I was subject to and the numbness it caused. That’s all I wanted. It was all I ever wanted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicidal thoughts and a bunch of other shit
> 
> Sorry it took so long. Writers block and depression. I'm trying to figure out how I want to link my idea for an ending and a falling action with the climax and stuff. It might be a while. Sorry for the wait and the possible future wait. Love u guys <3

“The secret to happiness is freedom… and the secret to freedom is courage.”  
-Thucydides

* * *

**Hotch’s POV**

“I don’t know.”

That’s what he had said in reply. I looked into Reese’s eyes, the look on his face revealing a broken conscious. He looked destroyed. He looked so utterly and completely destroyed, his eyes glassy and distant. My heart dropped, my face falling as he just stared back at me, the light in his eyes dissipating. He was dissociating, his mind keen on protecting itself after some intrusive thought or intensely traumatic memory. His features grew to become impassive, his entire emotional thought process completely shut down or he was blocking himself from emotions on purpose. The unfortunate part was that blocking off those emotions stopped him from healing, but I wasn’t going to push it. He wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“Reese?” I asked, hoping he would respond. He blinked his recognition but didn’t bother responding verbally. “Reese, do you want to talk about it?” I already knew my answer but decided to ask on the off chance he did.

He shook his head. “No,” he whispered, the sound emotionless and barely audible. He closed his eyes, a singular tear streaming down his face when he opened them.

I just nodded my understanding, climbing onto the bed next to him. “Ok,” I whispered, “it’s gonna be ok. We’re gonna figure this out. I’ve got you. I promise, I’ve got you.” I pulled him into me carefully, his arms automatically coming around me in response, his face burying in my chest. I threaded my fingers in his hair, running them through the disheveled strands slowly. “Can you tell me what scared you?” I asked softly, hoping to get some kind of answer. In truth, I was terrified of doing much of anything. I didn’t want to make his problems worse, and yet I was happy to do something sexual when I knew full well, he wasn’t ready for it. It was something he was using to manipulate and hurt his own mind.

_Fucking idiot, Hotchner. What were you thinking? Fuck._

“It’s not your fault, sir,” he whispered. ‘Sir’ stuck out to me first but then I caught on to what he was saying. What he was doing.

“I didn’t ask that,” I said softly, kissing the top of his head, “I asked you what scared you.”

He sighed, his fingers flexing against my back. He was stressed and extremely repressed, no doubt anxious and edging at complete mental breakdown. “It wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything. I just… I don’t like making decisions about anything. I just get so confused and then I panic because… b-because I’m scared something will happen if I get the answer wrong,” he explained timidly, emotion breaking free this time.

I thought about that for a moment, confused myself. “What do you mean you get confused?” I asked. He tensed, his silence growing more and more concerning.

“He had rules and you don’t. It’s hard not to follow any rules when I’ve lived with such a strict set of them for such a long time. I don’t like not having them. It… it just scares me,” he elaborated. I sighed, cursing myself for being such a moron. I knew I would have to speak with his psychiatrist before I did anything, but I understood what he was saying. I threw him into a world with no stability. He needed to be weaned back into living normally and making decisions for himself.

“Alright. Thank you for telling me that. It’s important to talk,” I said, reassuring him that he was doing the right thing. Feelings weren’t something he was allowed to have in Webb’s world, everything being about what his ‘master’ wanted. I was going to have to break through that, although I didn’t know if I was going to manage it. He shrugged, not agreeing nor disagreeing with my point. My lips curved into a small smile. “Are you tired?”

“Mm hm,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and burying his face further into my chest. I didn’t say anything further, my chin resting on top of his head, my eyes closing as I let him go to sleep.

* * *

_There was the feeling of warm breath pricking at my neck, the presence of another person lingering just inches behind me making my pulse race. My hands were shaking in front of me, my gaze on the floor and the knife in my hands, sweat misting over my palms and the handle of the blade. There was the nip of teeth by my ear and the feeling of someone’s nose running down my neck, strong hands coming around and gripping my sides._

_“You can do it, little one. Just do what I taught you to do,” the man said, his deep voice ringing in my ears. It was master’s voice. I looked up, finding two other people in the room. Aaron was there, sitting in chair on the opposite sides, his chin resting against his hand, his right leg crossed over his left. His face was a perfectly crafted mask of impassivity, his eyes not giving a thing away. I looked down again, my eyes snagging on the man kneeling before me, his head bowed, his hands resting upturned on his thighs. He reminded me of… me._

_I shook my head, my eyes widening as the seriousness of the situation sunk in. Master chuckled behind me, a hand tangling in my hair and pulling my head back against his shoulder. “N-No, I can’t—” I tried, trying to yank myself out of his grip. His grip tightened, holding me against him and putting up with my resistance. My heart thrummed in my ears, my anxiety making my mind go a million miles a minute._

_“Yes, you can, pet. I know you can. You’ve been so obedient thus far; you can be obedient and do what Master is telling you to do. I even taught you what to do. Come on, little one. You can do it for Master,” Master coaxed softly, the intoxicating smell of his cologne and his soap lingering in my nostrils. I swallowed, closing my eyes, and then looking back at Aaron, who was still silently watching from across the room. Two of Master’s finger slid across my jawline and cheek, barely pressing against my lips, and teasing my tongue. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know why I was doing this. “Do it for me, little one. I’ll be so proud of you if you can do this for me. Just cut him the way I taught you, pet. Show me what I taught you,” Master repeated firmly, his fingers coursing down my back, a tremor running through me._

_“O-Okay Master,” I conceded, nodding._

_“Good boy… now do it.”_

_With trembling hands, I stepped closer to the man. I cleared my throat, finding the strength to be more assertive. It felt odd with two completely different alpha males in the room. I stole a split-second look at Aaron, his eyes displacing his disdain but nothing else was visible. “Stand up,” I ordered, a sneer playing on my face. The man did as he was bade, standing up but keeping his eyes downcast. “Fucking bitch,” I muttered under my breath, my fingers coming up to slide down the column of his throat. Something new glittered in my eyes, something more dangerous and more feral._

_“Do it, little one. Show me,” Master ordered from behind me. In one quick motion I plunged the blade deep into the man’s stomach, letting out a satisfied growl as the knife sunk deep into his flesh and he screamed. I pulled the knife out slowly, crimson blood dripping from the knife and gushing from his wound. Master chuckled, his breath on my neck again, “see. You enjoy it. You’re no different then me.”_

* * *

**Reese’s POV**

“Wake up, baby. You’re slipping into another nightmare.” I opened my eyes, blinking as bright light clouded my vision. My head felt like it was going to implode, the light not making anything about that better.

“W-What?” I asked, my voice hoarse as I tried to shove my face back into his chest and go back to sleep.

“You were about to have another nightmare. I didn’t want you to wake up in a panic,” Aaron said softly, a calloused hand rubbing up and down my back.

“Thank you,” I whispered, suddenly feeling incredibly small as the thought of what the nightmare could have entailed. Most people didn’t remember their dreams or their nightmares.

Aaron kissed the top of my head. “Anytime. Do you need anything?”

I nodded, closing my eyes. “Do we have any Tylenol? I have a bad headache. Psychosomatic symptoms from all the stress are really getting to me,” I murmured.

“Yeah. I’ll get you some water too. Do you want anything to eat?” he asked, not bothering to hide the twinge of hope in his tone.

“Maybe a little later. I don’t usually eat when I first wake up, stuck in a sex dungeon or not,” I joked, chuckling dryly at my own terrible attempt at a joke. He didn’t laugh, instead shooting me a stern look. I smacked him on the arm, “it was supposed to be funny, bello. You said I need to learn to laugh again yourself. This is me making fun of my trauma before I start constantly freaking out again.” He nodded, letting his gaze soften but I could see the disdain at my comment still bubbling under the surface. I refrained from commenting on it this time, realization of everything sinking back in. The inner turmoil usually felt like something, anything. This time I felt… nothing. There was no feeling internally, positive or negative and in truth I was somewhat thankful for it.

He got up, forcing me to flip over onto my back and let him up all the way. I sighed, scrubbing at my face. The sleep had done nothing for me, but the painkiller sure had. My abdomen only felt the slightest bit sore. Aaron walked out of the room to retrieve both the Tylenol and the water, leaving me alone. I sat up, looking down at my chest and seeing the faint lines of the “WW” on my pelvis from where my sweats had slipped down. I traced a finger over one of the many, many scars, zoning out as I waited for Aaron to return. I could hear cabinets opening and closing and the rattling of pills in the bottle as he approached.

“Here,” he said, offering me the water and the pills. I took them both, knocking back the pills and then killing the entire bottle of water. I handed the bottle back and he set it on the nightstand, climbing back on the bed next to me and laying down on his back. I laid back, resting my head on his chest out of habit more than anything else, my eyes fixed on the ceiling, a blank expression on my face. We sat there for a while, not saying anything, just laying there. Aaron finally spoke again, the “I love you” coming seemingly out of nowhere.

I nodded, adjusting my head so I could look at him. “I love you too, even though it doesn’t seem like it right now,” I murmured, kissing his pectoral. He ran a hand through my hair, looking down at me.

“Why do you say that?”

I frowned. “Why did I say I love you?”

“No,” he said, scowling playfully, “why did you say it doesn’t seem like it right now, you goof.”

I shrugged. “Because I’m all out of whack. I’m either trying to get away from you or I’m trying to say I belong to someone else, because well, I do. I’m marked. I’ve been less than grateful even though I am, I swear. It’s just… weird, you know?” I explained emotionlessly.

He nodded. The gesture was absent minded, not true to what he was thinking but I didn’t have the energy or the inclination to dig any deeper into it. I closed my eyes again, trying to go back to sleep. Sleep was an escape or at least it was in part. It was plagued by nightmares, but it seemed better than constant tiredness and the itch that skittered under my skin like rats. “How are you still so tired?” he asked, amusement peaking through his tone.

“Nightmares and depression don’t allow for very much restful anything. Everything is so exhausting when it hits you all at once, but I can stay up if you want me to. I don’t do things for me. That would make me meaningless although I always have been,” I shot back, my tone dismissive.

“I would argue but you wouldn’t believe me,” he said, sounding resigned and tormented. A reaction seemed necessary, but one didn’t arise. I felt hollow. I had nothing left to give. I had nothing left.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t. Sorry,” I said, not even a tad apologetic. He didn’t say anything, too focused on the gears turning in his brain. I closed my eyes again, nestling my head against his chest comfortably. His fingers continued running through my head absent-mindedly, his even breathing lulling me closer and closer to sleep. “How’s Jack?” I asked quietly, hoping I could get his mind off of something that was probably extremely dark and graphic.

He let out a long exhalation. “He’s alright. He’s still trying to figure out how to deal with your absence. He missed you a lot and I don’t blame him. He’ll be excited to see you again, I just haven’t figured out the best way to take care of your needs and keep him close. There’s still another month of school so he wouldn’t be here the entire day and you wouldn’t get too overwhelmed during the daylight hours,” he explained softly.

That got my back up. “Aaron do not dare put me before your child. He is everything to you and I refuse to get in the way of that,” I replied vehemently. The confidence in my voice was extremely forced but I was hoping he wouldn’t notice that.

**_He’ll notice. You are the last person on this earth with the ability to be confident in any way, shape, or form. And it is fucking annoying. Do I need to handle this?_ **

_No. Fuck off. You fuck everything up. Everything. And everyone will leave before I get my chance to fully say goodbye. No._

“I never said I was putting Jack before you,” he said calmly, “I just said that I’m trying to make sure you could handle him being here.”

I paused, thinking about it. “Aaron, you don’t want me here with your son,” I whispered, devoid of any true conviction.

“Why?”

“Look at me.”

“I am looking at you. Why?”

I sighed. “You don’t want a traumatized object scarring your son. He’s going to ask questions that I can’t answer, and I could get angry and freak him out. I don’t want to yell at your child because I’m fucked up. It isn’t fair to him,” I explained.

_Should have just bleed out on that fucking floor. No one wants you. Aaron won’t want you in the end. You’re disgusting. You’re a pathetic, brainless fucktoy and that’s all you’ll ever be good for. You shouldn’t even be here._

  
“I don’t want to force you out, though. And we’re working on these things. We could set you up in the guest room and if you need space you can have that room to just calm yourself down and get away if you need to,” Aaron argued, his voice not raising as he argued with me. He was too adamant about keeping me around. I was only bound to disappoint him. He shouldn’t want me to be here. “Sweetheart, we can figure it out. Jack can stick it out at his aunt’s for a few more days. He’s been away from me longer than that and you know that. How about we sleep on it and talk again when you feel less tired?”

“Fine,” I said, exhausted.

_He shouldn’t want you. You’re just going to disappoint him. You’re going to let him down like everyone else in your life. You’re terrible. You’re pathetic. You should end it. Just end it now before you fuck anything else up._

_**No! I worked too hard to get us here. You aren’t fucking dying today.** _

_Shut up! You’re part of the reason everyone hates us. You’re the entire fucking problem! Just shut up! Shut the fuck up! Shut up!_

**_It’s not my fault you can’t see people for what they are. YOU are the one who let that man rape and abuse you until you got me! You need me. You want me here, whether you think you do or not. I’m the reason you’re alive, not you. Don’t you ever fucking forget it. You aren’t fucking killing yourself. End of fucking discussion, Reese._ **

_I do what’s best for everyone else! You aren’t good for anyone. Master was good to me and then you killed him and took it all away! You’re going to make everything worse. Everything! For once, please just shut the hell up and leave me alone, Benjamin!_

“Earth to Reese? Anyone home?” Aaron asked jokingly.

“What did you say? Sorry. Tired,” I whispered.

“It’s alright, baby boy. It wasn’t important in the first place. Do you want to go to sleep now?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. I need to make some calls. Sleep well.”

“Ok.”

I watched Aaron leave, closing the door behind him. I crawled up the bed, collapsing onto the pillows and closing my eyes, sinking back into the equally hellish scape of sleep. For a few moments I could escape; I could escape the constant pain I was subject to and the numbness it caused. That’s all I wanted. It was all I ever wanted. My entire life it was what I had strived for. I should have known better, though. I should have known that peace was never something that was meant for me. I was meant to be fearful and broken, a lost cause to everyone around me and an after thought to the people I loved who would never truly love me back.

**“You’re no different than me.”**

And I wasn’t. I wasn’t different. I was just as broken and just as fucked up. I was another broken freak with a dark side that was yearning to break free and once it did, no one would be safe until I was either locked up somewhere or dead in the ground. But I wasn’t going to let it get that far. I would never let myself fully become one of them. Ever. I was going to be gone before it got to that. I was going to be gone and no one was going to miss me.

I was going to be gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMK what u think and thanks for reading and love u guys


	25. Past, Present, and Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some therapy, some nightmares, some fluff (maybe idk)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Graphic depictions of rape, nightmares, anxiety, talk of self-harm, etc. Same old for this fic lol
> 
> Im not dead! Here's an update! Love you all <3

“We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.”  
-Luciano De Crescenzo

* * *

**Reese’s POV**   
_***11 Years Earlier*** _

_I walked through the front door quietly, my head pounding from my head getting thrown into a locker unexpectedly. I felt tired. So, so tired. Dad was supposed to be home in an hour and a half. The library had kicked me out early tonight, saying that the librarian’s kid was sick, and they couldn’t find a sitter. I had walked home as slow as possible, not wanting to think about facing my father’s rage again. Of course, school was getting worse. I had made the mistake of mentioning I was attracted to other guys to someone off-handedly and before I could try and rebound, that piece of knowledge was all across the school._

**_Fucking wonderful, Reese. Now everyone knows._ **

_The comments and treatment I had already received wasn’t fun at all. My sexuality was mostly why I was being slammed into lockers and slapped around nearly everyday of my life. It had started getting better, people letting off and started to leave me alone. Not anymore. Now I was a target again. God, why did I have to be so stupid as to let that slip?_

_I sauntered down the hall of the house to my room, opening the door and promptly shutting it, walking over to my bed and flopping face down on top of it. I needed to get up about 15 minutes before dad usually got home. I would cook dinner for the both of us. I just needed a few minutes to rest my eyes. Just a few minutes. I just needed a few minutes and then I could go on. I closed my eyes, my breathing getting even as I rested there._

_I jolted awake, panic surging inside me as I glanced frantically at the clock. **4:56pm.** “Shit!” I exclaimed through gritted teeth, jumping off the bed and sprinting into the kitchen to start making something. The old man always hated it when I wasn’t doing something that benefitted him as soon as he walked through the door. I threw a box of pasta on the counter and a bunch of random odds and ends, pulling a bag of rolls out of the freezer, I hit the button on the oven to start preheating it. I swallowed hard, thinking I was thoroughly fucked. I was, I just didn’t know it yet. I kept working on food, going about cutting peppers and mushrooms like it was nothing. I ignored my shaking hands and the tightness in my chest, pushing myself to finish the task at hand._

_I heard the front door’s telltale creaking and the heavy footsteps as he came in the front door, the slight slam as he closed it making me flinch. He walked closer and closer to where I was in the kitchen, throwing things in hot oil, my eyes closing as I tried to sense how angry he was today. I took a chance and opening my mouth, my words forced and incredibly strained, “h-hi dad. H-How was work?”_

_He didn’t say anything, and I stole a glance at him, disgust painted all over his face, abhorrence breaking free in his eyes. I was screwed. I didn’t watch as he walked to the fridge, no doubt pulling a bottle of whiskey from the door. The scraping of one of the chairs at the kitchen table told me he was sitting down, watching me, his irritation and disgust growing by the second. Unspoken anger hung over the room like a storm waiting to rage. I kept cooking, silently praying that he would just leave me alone tonight. Praying he wouldn’t beat the hell out of me again._

_“I was talking to Mrs. Marshall down the street on the way home from work. She said your friends with her daughter, Mary Ann,” he started, his voice rough and deep, his southern drawl blanketing every word._

_I nodded nervously, “yeah. We have a few classes together.”_

_He ignored that, continuing on. “She told me something interesting. Something I didn’t expect from any son of mine,” he practically spat._

_“W-What did she tell you?” I asked, my face falling as my hope began fleeting._

_“She told me that you were a god damn fag. A fucking faggot, Reese! It’s fucking disgusting! No son of mine is going to be a damn queer!” he yelled, the whiskey fueling his rage even more. I stilled, my eyes going wide as I looked at him, openly shaking. I tried to shake my head, to refute his claim but I couldn’t, shock and fear paralyzing me. He stood, taking three steps to me, and then grabbing me by the hair, throwing me headfirst into the cabinet in front of me. I wailed in pain, blood running down my forehead and splattering on the cabinet from the force in which I was thrown forward. He yanked me again, shoving me into the corner of the countertop, pain shooting through my lower back. Tears leaked down my face involuntarily, blood dripping all over the floor._

_I put a hand on my forehead, trying to put pressure on the gash on my head. I looked at my father, fear projecting on my face as I just stared. I was terrified. “Get over here, bitch. I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he demanded harshly._

_I shook my head, backing up as much as physically possible in the confines of the room. “T-That isn’t true! I’m not gay! I’m not! Mary Ann must have misheard me. I don’t like men!” I protested, desperate to get him to believe me._

_“You’re a fucking liar too. I’m gonna teach you, bitch. I’m gonna show you what it’s like to be a damned fag!” he roared, grabbing me by the hair again. I tried to get him to release me as he dragged me towards the living room, away from the one open window in the house. No one would hear me scream, anyway. No one ever did. And if they did, they didn’t care. No one ever cared. No one._

_He pulled me towards the wall and bashed my head against it again, making me feel woozy as I nearly fell to the ground. I couldn’t fall because of his grip on my arm. He pulled me over to the couch, slapping me in the face a few times just to make sure I was too dizzy to fight back. I felt his hands at my belt, undoing it and ripping my jeans down before roughly shoving me over the arm of the couch. Before I could move, he had me pinned, my body thrashing but as I tried to break free to no avail. I couldn’t get away and I couldn’t get him off._

_“You want to be a damn faggot; I’ll treat you like one. They’re diseased, filthy whores so that’s how I’ll treat you,” he snarled, the denim of his work jeans scraping against the backs of my thighs. I felt sick._

_“Dad, please! Don’t fucking do this, please!” I begged, trying to get as loud as I possibly could._

_He smacked the side my head, my neck snapping to the side. “Shut the fuck up, you pansy bitch. This is what you wanted when you decided to be a fucking cockwhore for other damn men,” he snapped back. I could feel his dick as he started pushing inside me, making me cry out in immense pain. It burned and stung. I could feel myself ripping open as he forced himself inside me, a guttural groan escaping his throat. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision as my fingers dug into the couch with white knuckled force. Pain shot through me with every thrust he made. With every movement he made._

_“Dad, it hurts! Stop! It fucking hurts! Please just stop!” I begged, my voice breaking as he ripped me apart again and again and again and again._

_“Stop your crying and whining, bitch. This is what happens to faggots like you. But you won’t be a stupid whore who wants to screw men after this, will you? No, you fucking won’t,” he sneered, pounding into me. I screamed, screaming until I couldn’t anymore, incoherent pleading and begging falling out my mouth without second thought. I finally felt him pull out and then warm, sticky blood dripped down my thighs and his cum rolled down my back and ass. He pushed me off the arm of the couch, my body hitting the carpeted floor with a thud and making me roll onto my side. I looked up at him, pain swimming in my eyes. He kicked me in the side, “clean yourself up. The kitchen too. Make yourself fucking useful for once.”_

_I scrambled to my feet, getting everything cleaned up and making him dinner before I retreated into my room, closing and locking the door and moving onto the small crack of space between my bed and my wall. I threw myself to the floor, hiding behind my bed and curling up into a ball on my side, tears still rolling down my face as I cried myself to sleep on the floor._

* * *

I was screaming as I woke up, two hands trying to shake me around. I thrashed, my eyes wildly blinking open as I attempted to get away.

“Reese! Reese, it’s me! It’s Aaron! You’re safe! He’s not here! You’re safe, I promise! Just wake up and look around! Wake up!” I opened my eyes, trying to focus on the man on top of me who was trying to wake me up.

I let out a shuddered breath, my body practically melting into the bed. “Sorry. Sorry. Nightmare,” I explained, trying to calm down.

“What was it about?” he asked, carefully extracting himself from over me and onto the spot next to me. A lump formed in my throat, the familiar signs of tears working through me.

A cry broke free before I could stop it, my eyes welling with tears again as the feeling of defeat washed over me. “It was about the first time… the f-first time he r-raped me,” I explained, voice cracking as I spoke.

“Who?” Aaron asked, concern marring his facial features, hard lines forming with ease on his face.

“M-My… my father,” I whispered, conceding to my tears as I cried more openly, “it was when he r-raped m-me for the first time.” I felt compelled to scream. To yell. To get angry.

_Should I be angry? That would be the normal reaction to it, wouldn’t it? What should I do? What should I think? I think it was wrong. It wasn’t… it wasn’t right, was it?_

“I’m so sorry, Reese. You didn’t deserve that,” Aaron murmured, pulling me into an embrace. I pushed away, shaking my head, and then letting it fall into my hands. I didn’t want anyone to touch me. I didn’t want to be seen. I wanted to disappear. I wanted a black hole to open in the floor and swallow me up and out of existence.

I swallowed, tears trickling down my face as I kept wiping them away. “I just don’t understand! I don’t understand why it even mattered! I hadn’t even had sex with anyone! I just…” I trailed off, trying to quell another fit of ugly sobs, “I just don’t understand why he couldn’t just love me. Why didn’t he love me? What did I ever do to be so unlovable? It doesn’t make sense to me.” More salt laced tears fell, soaking the sheets underneath and mixing with my sweat. My entire body was damp with it. I ran a hand through my hair, blinking back more tears and sobs and questions.

“He wasn’t a good man, Reese. You deserved love. You didn’t deserve his abuse. You were a child,” Aaron reasoned. The words still seemed so foreign. Everything felt so foreign and confusing.

_**So, it’s wrong when your father rapes you, but not when Webb raped you? How does that make any sense?** _

_It’s different! It isn’t the fucking same! It will never be the same!_

**_Both are wrong. Your father raped you and Webb did the same thing. Neither asked for consent. It is the same. You just don’t want to admit it._ **

I just closed my eyes, pushing up and leaning against the headboard. I was trying to find some kind of internal stability. It wasn’t easy to find. Mostly because it wasn’t there in the first place. I could feel the dark circles under my eyes, my mind and body tired of all the nightmares and trauma. It was exhausting. I was exhausted. Silence fell over the two of us, thick and uncomfortably distant as I shut down. I couldn’t do emotions anymore right now.

“Are you alright?” Aaron asked, a quizzical look on his face as he studied me, trying to profile and then act accordingly to the behaviors I had presented.

I swung my legs, pulling the sheets off of me and standing up. “I’m **fine**.” The ease in which I could sell my confidence was terrifying. It was manipulative. It was fake, laced with manufactured sincerity. But it was safe.

_Safe. Nothing is safe anymore._

“Where are you going?” he asked, panic clearer in his voice.

I looked back at him, “couch. You need sleep and I keep waking you up. I can’t sleep anymore, anyways. I’ll just be reading. Don’t worry.” I could see the skepticism on his face, his apprehension palpable. I knew he was stressed, my presence the main cause of it all. I walked over to his side of the bed, leaning over, and giving him a chaste kiss, more out of habit then anything. “Get some sleep,” I threw out, walking out of the room before he could protest or get a word out.

* * *

**_*Two days later*_ **

I sat anxiously in the waiting room of Peterson’s therapy office, Aaron sitting in the chair next to me. The morning had gotten off to a rocky start, nightmares plaguing my sleep and waking us both up. I felt out of place. It felt like everyone was staring at me, silently screaming at me that I shouldn’t be here. That I wasn’t their equal. I flexed my fingers in my lap restlessly, my anxiety rolling off me in waves. Aaron was reading some article in a psychology magazine he had picked up off the coffee table, his eyes going from the article to me and then back. I kept my gaze on my hands, watching people from my peripheral vision as they filed in and out of the lobby and to various other places in the building, paying no mind to us as we sat.

I counted the minutes passing by, tapping time to Appalachian Spring mindlessly in an effort to ease the anxiety rolling around in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t know how long I actually stayed tapping like that, my sense of time still distorted from those around me. Peterson walked out of his office, a young woman walking out in front of him, her heels clicking against the linoleum flooring, making me flinch. Peterson gave me a warm smile, his cautious still apparent under his eyes.

“Reese. Come on in,” he offered, motioning towards his open office door, beckoning me to follow him. I hesitated, unsure of both his intentions and my own. I didn’t want to fly off the handle like last time. I didn’t want to do something that would earn me any kind of punishment.

**_Aaron said he wasn’t going to do that. He never will. Not unless it’s within an agreed upon dynamic where you can still say no. Punishments aren’t a threat to us anymore._ **

_We don’t know that. People always lie. Always._

**_Hasn’t he proved himself to be trustworthy?_ **

“Go on, sweetheart. I’ll be out here,” Aaron murmured gently in my ear, his fingers lacing in mine and giving a reassuring squeeze. My eyes flicked up to his, my jaw barely clenching as my apprehension became more and more apparent. I wasn’t necessarily scared of Peterson; well, that wasn’t exactly true when I was scared of almost everyone, unsure of other’s intentions. I was more scared of myself and what I was capable of doing when I wasn’t kept in check.

Peterson studied us for a moment before speaking again, “Aaron—it is Aaron, right? Why don’t you join us? You’ve had a different perspective in all of this. It might… kickstart him if you know what I mean.”

Aaron looked down at me, gauging my opinion about the entire ordeal, knowing I wouldn’t give him my thoughts on the matter. I was still too skeptical of the pit falls of doing something like that. I gave him a hopeful look, making him nod, looking away from me and at Peterson. “Sure. C’mon,” Aaron ordered shortly. I stood with him, following closely behind as to make sure I could get away or brace in time for a physical show of aggression.

Peterson walked into the office space first, walking to his desk and rummaging through his desk drawers for something. Aaron walked over to the couch, sitting on the far-left side. I paused, automatically waiting for instructions and permission to sit down.

_Remember your place. You aren’t their equal. You are less. Remember your place._

Aaron patted the space next to him and when I didn’t move, his eyes hardened. Lifting a hand, he crooked two fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion that immediately made me move, submission engrained in every thought I had. It was automatic, submitting to Aaron. He was naturally dominant, so it wasn’t hard to get my mind to get with the program. I sat down, slotting into Aaron’s side effortlessly. I looked up then, noticing how Peterson had stilled to watch the entire interaction between us. There was a small smile on his face; why it was there, I didn’t know.

Peterson went back to digging around in his desk drawers, looking for something in specific. He pulled out a file and then a notepad, his fingers plucking a pen from a pen holder on his desk. He strode over, eloquently sitting down in his armchair, the file resting on the left arm rest of the chair. “So,” he began, clearing his throat, “how have the past few days been?”

I swallowed, looking down at my lap as guilt coursed through my veins. That only ratcheted up my anxiety. I started tapping again, my ears straining to hear the mix of violins and strings of a piece that wasn’t playing. Both men noticed the behavior, Aaron understanding what it was and putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into him. Peterson just looked confused. Aaron took the liberty to explain. “He’s tapping his fingers to the tempo of his favorite classical piece. He’s anxious and trying to cope.”

Peterson nodded, cocking his head to the side as he simply watched. “Reese, can you tell me how you’re doing?” he asked, clicking his pen and letting the end hover close to the paper of the notepad.

“Answer him, sweetheart,” Aaron ordered in a whisper.

I swallowed, nodding as I acknowledged the command. I tried my best to string the thoughts and feelings and words together, but in the end, I ran to what seemed the safest. “I… I’m fine,” I lied nervously, avoiding both of their eyes.

Aaron squeezed my bicep, “try again, baby. No need to lie. Be honest so he can help you. Nothing’s gonna happen if you’re honest.”

Peterson continued jotting things down, no doubt noting our behaviors and comparing my behavior now to my behavior last time. It was somewhat unsettling, but I tried to push it out of my mind and focus on what was happening now. I inhaled a sharp breath, trying again like I was told. “It… I don’t… I’m not sure, I-I guess. I’m just really confused by everything,” I admitted quietly, hoping that Peterson could hear me from where he was sitting.

Peterson nodded, his satisfaction not going unnoticed by me. “Can you tell me what you find confusing? Any feelings in specific? Maybe something that you’ve experienced?” he probed, looking up to gauge my responses and take more notes.

_Don’t respond. You will be punished if you respond._

**_No, you won’t. Nothing’s going to fucking happen! Jesus, you are so fucking dramatic._ **

I shrugged weakly, unsure of how to explain it. “It’s just odd. Everyone expects me to assimilate into normal society… but that feels wrong,” I explained meekly.

Aaron chipped in then, “he isn’t used to the lack of rules and… ‘consequences’. It makes him panic.”

I nodded, “what he said.”

Peterson let out a humorless chuckle, nodding. “And how do you go about coping with that panic?”

I didn’t answer, my face flushing and burning with shame. Aaron leaned into me, “do you want me to tell him?” I nodded, focusing on my tapping rather than the conversation. “If he can get away with it, he harms himself. If I’m around I stop him and hold him until he calms down. He usually goes to sleep for at least a little while after,” Aaron explained calmly, his thumb stroking over my clothed bicep.

“How does he harm himself?”

“Cutting or scratching at pre-existing cuts.”

“Alright. There is a way to limit the panic while also reverting you back to more independence. I admit, this might be a little… uncomfortable for you Aaron but given the acts of dominance you’ve already displayed I don’t think it will be overly difficult,” Peterson began, grimacing slightly. Aaron nodded, silently asking for him to go on. “Reese is submissive to you, but the way he interacts with you tells me that this is a dynamic that already existed between the two of you before, at least to some degree. Submission is something that feels safe to him, but the degree in which he does isn’t healthy. The best way to make him have his safety while also helping him cope and reacquaint himself with societal norms, is to offer that dynamic while also giving him expectations that are achievable.

“Essentially, you would step in and become the dominant figure in his life by giving him rules while also offering support. Nothing over the top. Simple things. Within this, Reese would be offered choices that were already something deemed as ok. He can then have preferences and build his confidence, while also indulging his need for a support system. Any questions thus far?”

Aaron shook his head, “no. I realized he would need that myself. I just didn’t know how to go about it.”

“Reese?”

I shook my head, “I get it.”

“Now, I want you to try two things. First, I want you to make three decisions a day. It doesn’t matter what they are. Smaller steps lead to bigger milestones.” He paused, waiting for a sign that I understood him. “Good. Second, I want you to be completely transparent with Aaron with your feelings. If you’re feeling down, tell him. If you want to hurt yourself, tell him. Be honest with him. Try and build trust.”

I nodded, tapping again, “ok.”

“Within that, find somethings that help you calm down. Reading, music, cooking… whatever it may be. The more outlets you have, the better off you will be when you feel yourself panicking or getting anxious,” Peterson explained, gentle and soothing. I nodded.

Aaron and Peterson spoke privately for a few minutes, leaving me to my own devices in the lobby. I felt extremely nervous, even though the area was empty. When Aaron came out, I nearly attached myself to him like a parasite. He chuckled, squeezing my hand. “Let’s go home, baby boy,” he murmured softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are great. Hope you enjoyed.


	26. Flashback III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reese has a flashback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo here's another chapter. Sorry these are taking me so long. I have ideas, I just don't know how to connect them and writers block is a real bitch. I'm never gonna give the fic up until it's done, so don't worry about that. 
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who comments and for all the kudos and hits! It really means a lot to me. You guys are truly amazing. 
> 
> Without further a do, here is chapter 26. Hope you enjoy! <3

“One loyal friend is worth ten thousand relatives.”  
-Euripides

* * *

**Reese’s POV**   
_***7 years earlier*** _

_I sighed as I woke up, my body aching from the crazy night all of us had. My head was throbbing, the hangover hitting me full force. I looked across the room from where I had been passed out on the couch, Daniel and one of his buddies, Scott, were still passed out on the floor, solo cups and beer bottles scattered all around them._

_“Where the fuck are we?” I muttered to myself, blinking a few times in hopes of catching up with all the events that had taken place and led us to right here. It came back slower than normal, but either way the memories and slight regrets all came flooding back._

_I had filled in as lead for one of my classmate’s bands, that led to drinking after, which led to women flirting, which led to getting swept into a rager at someone’s house. And now I was currently on their couch and needed to get the hell out of here. Flirting and playing shows was time consuming, and daunting, especially as an 18-year-old college student who also happened to be closeted to most people around me. Anything to get what I wanted, though. And that was an escape. I wanted an escape._

_I sighed, scrubbing at my face and standing, stretching as I stood to compromise for the uncomfortable way I had slept. I sauntered over to Daniel, nudging him with my foot. “Wake up, dipshit. We need to get out of here and back to our dorm,” I announced, nudging him harder and then delivering a swift kick to his ribs, just hard enough to wake the asshat up._

_“AH! Stop fucking kicking me,” Daniel demanded, his voice groggy from his own hangover._

_“Then get the fuck up so we can leave,” I fired back, rolling my eyes._

_“Fine, you demanding little shit,” he said, exasperated, picking himself up off the floor. I smacked him when he stood, a small reprimand for the comment and moved away, looking around. I saw other people in another room, all passed the hell out. “C’mon,” Daniel ordered, gesturing towards the front door, stepping over Scott as we made our quiet exit._

_“We’re just gonna leave Scotty here?” I whispered, shooting him a confused look. Daniel just nodded so I moved on. We tip-toed our way through the house, finding the exit and leaving as quietly as possible._

_Daniel threw an arm around my shoulders as we walked side by side back towards the direction of campus, sighing. “How did it feel to be the center of attention last night, darlin’?” Daniel asked, his signature toothy grin on his face._

_I sighed, rolling my eyes again at the thought of everything I had endured last night. “It wasn’t great,” I commented dryly, “too many women trying to glue themselves to me. Too many guys trying to get me more drunk than I already was. I just like music… I don’t care about all the other stuff. Popularity is overrated.”_

_Daniel scoffed, giving me a small slap to the back of the head. “Shut up, you tight wad. You really need to loosen up more. Preferably without being a borderline alcoholic,” he retorted._

_“I am not a borderline alcoholic, you freak!” I snapped back, smacking him back._

_“I’m kidding! I’m kidding! Yeesh, kid. Relax,” Daniel said, hands up defensively, “but you do need to get used to it. You’re trying to join the FBI and shit to get back at your old man. You think FBI agents aren’t put in intense situations where they have to be in the limelight for at least a little while?”_

_I scoffed this time. “Intense situations? Yes. Women throwing themselves at me while in the field? No. Besides, I’m not interested in women, even if we weren’t… doing whatever the hell we’re doing,” I explained._

_He smiled knowingly, “whatever we’re doing? For being a practical genius, you really are dumb.”_

_I shot him a withering look; disdain painted all over my face. “Dumb? Can you blame me for being cautious?” I asked quietly, looking away._

_“Hey…” Daniel murmured, gripping my chin and making me look at him, “I was just playing. You aren’t being dumb. You know I care about you, right?” I nodded, looking up the sidewalk, keeping myself vigilant. He gave my shoulders a squeeze, side hugging me. “Good thing, darlin’. But either way, I think it’s funny watching straight women throw themselves at you while you’re clearly uninterested in them,” he remarked, chuckling lightly. I laughed with him, shrugging._

_I sighed as we walked into our dorm, Daniel following me to our room behind me. “I don’t want to study for this fucking psyche test coming up, but I can’t afford to fail out,” I complained as I opened the door to our room. Vanderbilt’s dorms were one main dorm split into individual rooms, meaning people shared a kitchen and living room but had their own bedrooms. Daniel spent more time in mine then he spent in his. Our two other roommates didn’t seem to care, though, each of them minding their own business._

_“At least you can learn shit like this better than half the people in the course,” Daniel snorted, shoving me playfully._

_I shoved him back, laughing. “Well yeah, but I still have to study to know what’s going on. I’d rather just get drunk and play some more.”_

_“Tough shit, country boy!” Daniel called as he walked into the bathroom._

_“Ironic coming from you!” I called back, whipping my shirt off to get into some clean clothes. I pulled out a Vanderbilt tee they gave out like crazy to students and some sweatpants, kicking my shoes off and flinging them into my small closet. Daniel sauntered in, leaning into the doorframe, and smiling at me as I stripped down into my briefs. He was topless, his jeans clinging to his waist, the top button and zipper undone suggestively._

_He whistled, making me laugh and throw a sock at him. He caught it and tossed it to the side, walking into the room and colliding into me, pushing me back into my bed. My back hit the mattress, the springs squeaking from the added weight. Daniel suspended himself over me, a wolfish grin on his face. I grinned up at him, searching his face._

_“What are we doing, Danny boy?” I asked, reaching up and cupping one side of his face in my palm._

_He leaned down, kissing me on the tip of my nose. “I don’t know, baby, but we’ll figure it out. But first, I’m going to try and do_ you _,” he murmured warmly, making me lick my bottom lip in eager invitation._

_“I need to study, though,” I insisted, raising a brow. I wasn’t actually going to say no to him, not knowing we were just going to make-out and probably blow each other. I had never opted to go all the way. Not yet, anyway. Maybe someday. But not right now. And Daniel was fine with that._

_He rolled his eyes. “Ughhh. You never know when to just let go and have some fun. Once I start, you won’t want me to stop and you definitely won’t regret it,” he purred, nibbling at the lobe of my ear._

_“You and your massive ego,” I muttered under my breath, looping my arms around his neck and pulling him down impossibly closer._

_“Do you want to lecture me on my ego, or do you want my dick in your mouth?” he asked, smirking._

_“Mm… I don’t know,” I replied, toying with him. He rolled his hips into mine, one of his hands starting to venture down between us._

_He smirked harder, kissing and nipping at the sensitive spot behind my ear. “You will in a few minutes, baby.”_

* * *

_I jolted awake, sitting up. I was breathing hard, sweat misting my skin and dripping down my forehead. I looked over, Daniel’s eyes finding mine as he propped himself up one side, concern written on his facial features. “Nightmare?” he asked softly, scooting up the bed to sit up. The fact that both of us fit in this tiny bed was a miracle, but neither of us ever commented on it._

_I nodded, swallowing past the acidic bile in my throat, “yeah. Yeah, another nightmare. It wasn’t as bad as some of the others though, even though I can’t really remember it.”_

_“He can’t get to you, baby. I wouldn’t let him get to you,” Daniel whispered, pulling me into him gently. I rested my head against his shoulder, my heated cheek resting against his cooler skin._

_“I know,” I whispered back, closing my eyes._

_“Do you want to go back to sleep?” he asked, stroking a hand down my back._

_“Yeah. I’m still tired. Is it still light out?”_

_“No. The sun is setting. We didn’t get a lot of sleep thanks to your body clock,” he said, a hint of smile tugging at his lips._

_“Shut up,” I responded. He just laughed, shifting around to lay back down, taking me with him. I scooted forward, nuzzling into his chest and tucking under his chin like a clingy cat. He just kissed the top of my head, wrapping his arms around me and holding me to him tightly. Protectively._

_“Goodnight Reese,” he whispered sweetly._

_“G’night J,” I slurred sleepily, sinking back into the depths of sleep comfortably._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy Daniels (or Daniel because I fucked up and made Daniel his last name, whoops) was a past love interest of Reese. he will become more key in the plot in future chapters because reese has trauma and shit he needs to deal with. 
> 
> LMK what you think and thanks for reading! :)


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